Turn Back Time
by Aurigae
Summary: Draco Malfoy decided he could not continue the life he's living now, and grabbed the first opportunity to turn his dreams involving Hermione Granger into a reality. He ventured years into the past to save her and change his future once and for all.
1. Chapter 1

**TURN BACK TIME**

Draco Malfoy decided he could not continue the life he was living now, and grabbed the first opportunity to turn back time, to turn his dreams involving a certain Muggleborn into a reality. He ventured into the past to save Hermione Granger and change his future once and for all.

CHAPTER I

Draco Malfoy was 28. In fact, he just turned 28 last month. Twenty eight, and unhappily married.

Oh yes, Draco Malfoy was married. It had taken bloody some time before his parents had been able to finally drag him into a marriage, but he was now married nevertheless, and to a perfect pureblood wife at that, a perfect pureblood wife any pureblood parents could ever want for their son: beautiful, obedient, rich, and from an old pureblood family.

Hell, many of his male friends, acquaintances and business colleagues even envied him. He knew, he could see it from their eyes, how they couldn't take those eyes off his wife every time she graced them with her presence.

In short, he was deemed the luckiest wizard alive: pureblood, extremely rich, utterly powerful, not to mention handsome, young, intelligent and … with a perfect pureblood wife at his side.

But, as much as he had been trying to dismiss it, even to kill it, he couldn't help but occasionally feeling that emptiness, that deep void and hollowness in his heart. In fact he often forgot he actually had a heart unless the sometimes overwhelming emptiness reminded him it was there, so overwhelming he felt like crying his heart out, just to get it off his chest, just to ease the hollowness.

But he was a Malfoy, so he couldn't possibly cry, could he? Even if it were with in the confinement of his private study or bedroom, which he refused to share with his wife of three years. Besides, he had cried _a lot_ in the first few years after that tragedy, after life had cruelly taken away the only light in his life. He had refused , at that time, to be reminded that he w as a Malfoy. He had cried and cried until his tears were dried up, until he could no longer shed any, afterward he decided to continue living on as an empty she ll.

But, every once in a while the overwhelming emptiness still attacked him like waves. At those times he would usually climb up his broom and soar, as high and as far as he could, against the wind, through the clouds, toward the Moon and the stars, leaving the Earth, leaving the only life he knew, the one he did not wish to live.

Sometimes he felt sorry for his wife. She had barely done anything that deserved his cold treatment and hatred. Her only fault was that she took the position that he had secretly reserved only for _her_, for the light of his life; that his wife had agreed on their parents' proposal for an arranged marriage between them.

Draco was in one of his weakest moments when he agreed on that marriage, after rejecting so many prospective wives his parents had arranged for him earlier. And now he couldn't help but regretting it because if anything, his wife only reminded him of what he could have had, of another person he could have been married to, who could have been at his side instead of her.

And even after three years of their marriage and his parents' continuous nagging, he could not fancy himself being a father, thus his casting and not yet lifting off the semi-permanent anti-pregnancy charm on his wife because, well, he still sometimes, though quite rarely, came to her when he couldn't help the 'urges' or was in a very drunken state.

Problem was he couldn't help but keep wondering what if. What if it had been _her _that had been his wife, that had been the would-be mother of his beautiful unborn children. Hell, he could even see how their children would have looked like. Some would have had his platinum blond hair, some would have had her curly brown one, and some would have had their combined traits. Some would have had his grey eyes, some would have had her honey-colored ones. Whichever, undoubtedly their children would have been beautiful and intelligent, and brave and daring like their mother, a person he regretfully hadn 't been. They would also have been caring and honest, and had thirst for knowledge, just like her. And he knew he would have loved them, and adored them, and protected them, as he had always been loving and adoring their mother, and would have protected and cherished her with all his heart and everything he had, including his life, if she only had still been alive.

Oh yes, if Hermione Granger had still been alive, he would have given her all of those. In fact, he would have traded every single thing in his possession right now if they could only bring her back t o life, give him an opportunity to win her heart and have her and show her how much she meant for him; for all those things in his possession simply felt meaningless without her there.

Yes, Hermione Granger was dead. She died during the Final Battle 10 years ago. In his dreams he saved her. In his dreams she survived and was safe and sound in his arms. And he had been dreaming of those even until recent years. But, it was only in his dreams. In real life she had slipped off of his arms. In real life she had died before his very eyes. Oh, what he would have done to turn back time and change all of those. What he would have done …

* * *

**Note: For readers of "Matchmaking My Brother", I **_**swear**_** I'm not abandoning the story. It's just my mood swifts from light to gloomy every once in a while, so I need this rather gloomy story as somewhat a release. I promise, though, it will be happy ending (never like sad ones). Hope you enjoy i t. And, it'll be very nice of you if you let me know what you think of this story, so please review...? :)**

**By the way, if you happen to stumble upon the same story with this on another site (I'm not sure if it's ethical to mention the name here, so I wouldn't), it's ... well, it's mine, although I use different penname there, "Algae". I haven't really checked if they've published the story, though; they don't seem to be quite as diligent sending me notifications through e-mail like this site, and last time I checked the publication was pending.**

**Anyway, I must say that this story is somewhat inspired by my favorite HP fanfiction "All I Want", written by my favorite author blue movies (pity she seems to be no longer active now), although majorly of course it is inspired by the brilliant JK Rowling! -all the characters are hers anyway.**

**Oh, well, anyway, hoping to know your opinion on this story. Thanks for reading, for start :)**


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER II

Draco Malfoy woke up to blinding sunlight penetrating through the curtains of his bedroom windows. He groaned, putting an arm over his eyes in an attempt to block the sunlight. It barely worked, though, especially because the overly spacious room became too warm it was no longer comfortable to continue sleeping.

He sighed, dropping the arm over his abdomen and reluctantly opened his eyes. He felt no will to wake up, it was getting harder each day in recent months. Somehow she had been haunting his dreams more frequently.

Just last night he again dreamt about her at that night of the Final Battle. It began as it had actually happened; he was running in between trees on the edge of the Forbidden Forest as the battle rolled over. He saw people, the Death Eaters and the Light Side army, fighting here and there. He saw some of those he knew killed, badly injured or being horribly tortured. But, he barely stopped, only sending curses here and there occasionally whenever he felt they would not impede his effort to reach his destination.

He had just switched side, pledging his allegiance to the Light Side the night before. He had wanted to do so much earlier, but had been too coward, too afraid of the Dark Lord and what he might do to him and his family had he found him to betray him. Draco had been so desperate. That time his feelings for her, after seeing her tortured by his Aunt Bellatrix in his manor, had grown considerably.

Seeing her writhing in pain, screaming in agony, had broken his heart so, especially because he had been too foolishly coward to do anything to help her back then. And then she had escaped, and he had felt so relieved, and that was when he had realized he could never bear seeing her suffer anymore. He had realized that when presented the opportunity, he would _never_ let anything harm her. He would save her, even if he had to sacrifice his own life during the process.

But, still, he had been too coward, so he had tried to protect her secretly. Unknown to anyone, including her, he had been looking out for her, watching over her. He had kept tabs over her whereabouts. Whenever he had heard or sensed that the Death Eaters were about to come across her way, he would very carefully direct them to an opposite direction. Sometimes it was her and her friends whom he very subtly and smartly, again unknown to them, directed to other places, preventing them from encountering the Death Eaters and their cronies.

But, nearing the night of the Final Battle, he had realized it was not enough. He needed to give it all out in his efforts to protect her, to ensure she would be safe, and he didn't think he could do that by continuing his siding, albeit not at all by heart and barely physically, with the Dark Side. He definitely needed to do it much more actively, and that could only be done if the Light Side knew where his allegiance lay, and thus would not unknowingly hamper his efforts to protect her.

And, so, he had spoken to McGonagal the night before the Final Battle. His Godfather Severus Snape, who had been acting as a spy for the Light Side, had backed him, explaining that despite his seemingly siding with the Dark Lord, Draco had been barely involved in their killing spree. In fact, the worst that he had done for them was letting them in into Hogwarts the night Dumbledore had been murdered, and that was because he simply had had no choice; his father had been in Azkaban and Voldemort had threatened to kill his mother if he had failed.

After that the Dark Lord had barely even acknowledged his presence.

Draco had never revealed the real intention behind his switch to the Light Side, but he had given them the Unbreakable Vow, that he would never harm any of them when it was within his power not to. They had informed members of the Light Side army over his last minute change of allegiance. He wasn't really sure if she knew, but heartily wished she did.

Back to the night of the Final Battle, he grew panicking because he could not see her everywhere. He saw Weasley, Ronald Weasley, almost killed by Avada Kedavra, but he sent a jinx toward the attacker, which made the curse miss by an inch but saved the red head anyway.

Sweats made his black robe clung uncomfortably on his skin, he was almost out of breath because of the endless running, and there were cuts, some oozing blood, all over his skin because of sharp tree branches he had been encountering along the run. Some misdirected or bouncing spells worsened his condition, making one of his feet limp. But, he didn't cared. He _needed_ to find her. He _needed_ to protect her. He needed to ensure she would be all right. So he kept running as fast as he could.

And, finally, there he saw her, kneeling on the ground near a magical circle where Voldemort and the Boy Who Lived were facing each other. He saw her breathing heavily, one of her hands supporting her seemingly injured other arm while grasping her wand tightly. A long, bleeding cut spread across her left cheek, her hair was a mess. She was focusing on the wizarding duel of the Century in front of her.

He wished to hold her right there and then, running her away to a safe shelter, caring not about how the duel and the rest of the battle would proceed. But, there were some Death Eaters on the other side of the circle, who did not seem to be aware of her presence yet. Any wrong moves from him could alert them on her presence instead and subsequently harm her. So he decided to wait, during which he whispered a long enchantment before casting a special shielding charm on her, a legacy of his family. It would last longer than the ordinary shielding charm, so one did not have to cast the charm over and over again when under attack. He hoped it would keep her safe at least for a while.

She noticed someone cast a charm on her, and looked around to see who had done that. But, Draco kept hiding. Just then he saw one of the Death Eaters turning his head slowly toward her. Draco immediately shot him the Killing Curse, hitting him straight on the chest and killing him at once. And then he quickly sent another one to another Death Eater, who was also too slow to react and easily sank to the ground.

The three other Death Eaters were soon alarmed and now looking around angrily for their attackers. That was when they saw her, and began walking abruptly around the magical circle to get to her.

But Draco wouldn't see that. He immediately stood up, leaving his hiding place behind a cluster of shrubs, purposefully revealing himself while viciously attacking the three Death Eaters with random curses in order to divert their attention from her. It worked, and he managed to petrify one of them. Now the remaining two Death Eaters attacked him angrily, and he ducked and ran to avoid their curses, once in a while casting the shielding charm (the ordinary one; because the special Malfoys' one required too long enchantment, which he didn't have the time to cast). He saw then a curse coming from her, attacking one of the Death Eaters. It was badly aimed, though; it looked like her wand hand was injured as well, so rather than disarming the Death Eater, it drew the latter's attention back to her.

Draco cursed as he saw the Death Eater pointing his wand at her, coming toward her. He quickly left the one he was dueling with, set to attack the former, not caring about his safety, only hers. But, his Death Eater would not see that; he sent him a lot more curses and jinxes, which made it practically impossible for Draco to ignore him.

Nevertheless, Draco finally managed to bring him down, after which he immediately turned around to get to her. That was when he saw the last Death Eater standing right in front of her, pointing his wand down at her face, while her wand was nowhere in sight. Draco instantly raised his arm to attack the Death Eater, running quickly toward them as if his life depended on it as he shot a curse, wishing it would stun the Death Eater before he could do her any harm.

But it was too late, the Death Eater was a millisecond faster. He cast the Killing Curse at her, and time seemed to move very slowly after that.

Draco saw the curse, in a slow motion, bounce off and return to its caster, sending him toppled onto the ground. But then he saw her falling down too, and immediately ran to her; his heart felt like stopping. He wished to all deities in Heaven that they would let her live.

He quickly grabbled hold of her, desperately cradled her in his arms, and cried out her name in agony, when suddenly he found her eyes opening slowly, staring up confused at him. He felt so relieved, so utterly relieved. He could not remember any other times in his life when he ever felt that relieved. He tightened his hold of her, and thanked all deities in Heaven for answering to his prayer.

"It's you," he heard her whisper, which he replied with kisses on her hair, her forehead, her nose, all over her face. She was alive. She was alive. Thank Heaven, she was alive! He felt her clutching her hand on his robe, and heard her say, "Thank you, Draco", before resting her head on his chest. And then he cried tears of joy.

And that was how cruel his dreams could be. Because in reality, there was no such things as _stupid_ Malfoys' shielding charm! She had been completely unprotected, and had been killed under the hand of the damned Death Eater, whom he quickly murdered soon after.

She had been lifeless when he had cradled her in his arms. She had never opened her eyes as she did in his dreams, never smiled, never recognized him and muttered his name, let alone saying thank you. She hadn't even breathed, and her body had grown stiffened as he held her tightly, crying, pouring his heart out, begging her to wake up, even hours after the Final Battle finally had ended and Harry Potter had killed the Dark Lord, although not long after the Boy Who Lived had finally died, too, because of too many internal injuries and exhaustion.

Draco growled loudly as he woke up from his bed, and then harshly grabbed his wand on the bedside table and sent curses at everything he could see in his room, stopping only after it looked like it had been exploded, although the ceilings and walls remained intact.

He then dropped himself back on the bed, letting his wand fall and roll on the floor, crying in despair for the first time in years.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER III

"Have you ever had a same dream over and over, Blaise? One that lasts for years?" Draco said pensively as he looked out at the window of his office, which was on top of a tall building not far from the Ministry of Magic headquarters. His back was facing his best friend since childhood, Blaise Zabini, who had been busy flipping over pages of _The Daily Prophet_ but now stopped and stared at him upon hearing the question.

"No. Don't tell me you still dream about her. I thought it ended years ago," Blaise threw the newspaper on the table and slumped himself on the chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

"C'mon, Draco, it's been like 10 years since she … died. Sorry. But, really, you should really stop thinking about her. There's nothing you can do to bring her back. Just get over her and move on, will-"

"DAMN, Blaise! I've tried, I've tried, _okay_?" Draco turned around, walking abruptly toward the nearest couch and dumped himself there. He brushed his fingers through his very shortly-cut platinum blond hair in desperate gestures.

"Don't you _dare_ accusing me of bringing those dreams intentionally! I've tried to forget her, I've tried to banish all I've ever felt for her! But, none of them have worked, Blaise. _None_. And, somehow, in these past few months, all those dreams are just coming back. I don't know why or how, but that's what's happening. And it's getting more intense each time. It's killing me, Blaise. Those dreams are killing me. I don't know what to do with them."

Blaise stared at his frustrated friend sympathetically. He knew Draco did not intentionally wallow himself in sorrow. He knew how his bestfriend had struggled for years to end his mourning and despair, and that he had somehow managed to move on, although Blaise regretted that the blond was never again the same person he had used to be. He was now a mere empty shell, gone had the Draco he had come to know very well during their teenage days. In fact, today was the first time he again saw a display of emotions from his usually emotion-deprived friend.

There had been so many things going on during those dark war times, and Draco had been at the center of all of those, what with the Dark Lord practically living in his manor and his father having been once among the highest Death Eaters rank. Not to mention he had been pressured to sneak in some Death Eaters into Hogwarts and thus contribute to the killing of Dumbledore when he had only been 17. Blaise had been lucky enough his parents had chosen to stay neutral during the war and run their family away to Italy during the peak of the battle. Otherwise he wasn't sure if he also would remain the same person he had been, that was if he were lucky enough to stay alive.

And Blaise knew how during those dark days Draco had been on the verge of committing suicide numerously. He also knew how _she_ had been the only reason why Draco had never actually done that. He had lived, if only to ensure she would have been safe. Blaise could _perfectly _understand why it became very difficult then for his friend to move on, when his only reason to live had died before his very eyes.

"They're more or less the same, Blaise," Draco continued as his friend seemed to have no idea what to say.

"There are slight differences here and there, but basically in those dreams I saved her; again and again. I saw her opening her eyes and smiling, thanking me. I heard and felt her breathing; I felt her heartbeats. Merlin, I could even feel the warmth of her body! And, while having those dreams I always completely forgot the realities. So, you can imagine how I felt as I woke up only to find over and over again that those were _not_ real, that what _fucking_ real is that she was lifeless, and her body was cold and grew stiffened when I held her in my arms!" He growled, sounding very much like a wounded lion, and then suddenly he stood up and, in an unexpected show of strength, kicked the heavy marble table between them violently, flipping it over and breaking it into two.

Blaise flinched, but remained clueless as to what to say. He cast the repairing charm as soon as his blond friend returned to the window, staring out emptily at it once again. The table was back into its original condition.

Blaise sighed, and then stood up and walked toward his friend, giving him a light squeeze on shoulder in a silent attempt to console him. He stood next to him, leaning his forehead against the window.

"I'm sorry, mate. If there is only anything I can do for you …"

Draco said nothing, so Blaise continued, "Really, sometimes I wish I could turn back time and help you, accompany you along those hardships. If only I hadn't run away with my parents, perhaps … perhaps I could have done something to somehow fix the situation…"

Draco remained quiet for some time. But, then, although his empty stare was still fixed at the busy road down there, he laughed bitterly, and then spoke,

"I've been wishing the same, turning back time. I've wished countlessly that I could return to those times, and make earlier switch to the Light Side, or find her earlier during the Final Battle. I could have just neglected the battle and run her away to somewhere safe, maybe before she even took part in it. She might have been mad at me, but at least she would still have been alive."

He resumed his bitter laugh.

Blaise contemplated his friend's musing, and realized Draco had been haunted by those dreams partly because he had too many regrets, too many wishes that he could have really put to right the things he _almost_ did right, although why those dreams had started attacking him again recently, after years of only some occasional appearances, was still a mystery.

"I've seriously thought about going back to the past, Blaise," now Draco tilted his head slightly toward his dark-skinned friend, before returning slowly to the window. "Unfortunately, Time Turners could only bring people back to hours earlier, not years…"

"Yeah … so unfortunate," Blaise replied.

They were both lost in their own thoughts then, before Blaise mindlessly added,

"This just reminds me of when I was in Moscow some time ago. I heard about this Russian wizard attempting to invent a Time Turner which he claimed could send people back to months earlier. Hell, they even said he claimed he could create one which could send people back decades earlier, if only anyone would help him with the funding-" he chuckled here, clearly disbelieving the claim, before continuing,

"He said he had found a formula or whatever for that. Of course, everyone mocked him because that's just ridiculous. He was known as this eccentric guy who always tries to invent ridiculous stuff. And people have accused him of simply trying to find some fools to pay his piling debts because of those failed inventions. I've never heard of him again after-"

Blaise was stopped abruptly as Draco pulled him roughly on his collar, almost choking him.

"Who is he, Blaise? Why haven't you told me earlier? Tell me where I can find him," Draco spoke in a low, dead tone. His eyes were indecipherable.

"Draco, you're not seriously thinking about seeking the man's help, are you? Everybody calls him mad, and making fun of him and calling him a failed inventor wanna-be who's gone insane because of the failed inventions. I wasn't meaning to recommend him, I-"

"I DON'T _FUCKING_ CARE, BLAISE! This could be my only chance, and I've had ENOUGH with regretting what I should and could have done! This man could be my _only_ chance to end all of these!"

"But, he may very well trick you into paying his debts, Draco, for NOTHING, NOTHING in return! He would only give you a false hope, and you'd end up in even more despair!"

"How would _you_ know when you haven't even tried, Blaise? I DON'T fucking care if I have to pay all his debts. He could rob me of all my wealth for all I care! Help me find him, Blaise. Help me find this man," he almost whispered as he ended his sentence.

Blaise stared into the swirl of grey which was his friend's eyes, and saw a desperation THERE where only numbness had resided for years. He also saw a flicker of hope, and didn't have it in his heart to let it die so quickly.

* * *

**Author's note:**

**What do you think? This story hasn't received as many attention as my other story; is it that bad? Please tell me if you think it is worthy to continue this story. And sorry to Toushirou no Hanabi, harrypotterbook4fan, YearOfJudges, Astanley1991, for forgetting to say Thank Youuuuuuuuu! for all of your precious reviews, though sadly I've got none for the second chapter :(**


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER IV

It was early afternoon in mid September, and was uncommonly chilly for an early Autumn day. The street of Diagon Alley was deserted, not only because most people were already back to work from their lunch, but also because they preferred to stay inside, seeking warmth from the fires that lit up their office chambers. This was a very contrary sight to that a few weeks ago, when throngs of noisy Hogwarts students and their parents rushed along the shopping district to purchase school supplies.

Nevertheless, the young Mr. Malfoy barely paid attention on the weather. Dressed in all black -black suit, shoes and cloak, he walked along the deserted alley; the clicks of his expensive heels were the only sound heard from outside by people staying close enough to the doors. His tallness and fair coloring, along with his graceful moves, gave him somewhat an ethereal appearance. The empty stare in his eyes, if one dared take a look, did not help the matter. He was there, but had a too ghostly air about him he didn't seem to belong to this world.

Draco was indeed lost in his own world. He was enjoying the lone walk along the deserted alley, for the lonely air fitted his mood. He was again attacked by that overwhelming sense of emptiness, and oddly found somewhat a comfort in the gloomy surrounding. He hated to be among people when in that mood; they didn't allow him to make necessary conversation, to sort things out with the emptiness.

By now he was passing by Flourish and Blotts, still the biggest bookstore in the area. He couldn't help but curving a rare small smile, in sudden remembrance of a memory more that a dozen years ago, when, as a 12 year old, he had watched women and young girls alike lining to have their books signed by the infamous author Gilderoy Lockhart. He had denied it back then, but he had actually been paying more attention on a certain Muggleborn girl about his age than he should, instead of on Lockhart or the gathering crowd. He had been watching her from the second floor, while she had seemed to be very enthusiastic about getting her book signed. He remembered the 12-year-old him had sneered at her in an internal attempt to deny early signs of attraction, muttering slurs about her blood and silly infatuation with Lockhart, although she hadn't even seen nor heard him. He remembered he had actually been somewhat entranced with the radiant look on her face, how her smiles had seemed to be so sincere and carefree, and how they had lit up her face and seemed to light up the room as well. He had of course never admitted it back then, and set not to think much of that and of her afterward. But, later on, as he had learned to accept his feelings for her, he had realized that that moment in the bookstore was the first time he had developed a crush on the muggleborn witch, although for the feelings to transform into something of a multiple depth and magnitude had required several years after.

Nevertheless, his mood was notably enhanced as he turned right and entered a florist several buildings from the bookshop. The owner, previously hiding behind the counter, immediately rushed to the front as soon as he saw whom it was, welcoming the high-profile customer warmly.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy! A pleasure indeed. I've been hoping to see you since the morning; coming a bit later than usual I see. Almost thought you wouldn't come today. Anyway, the usual, yes?" the old, white-haired man was unaffected by Draco's impassiveness, as the blond merely nodded curtly in response, caring not about muttering a single word. He did not feel like explaining to the old man that he had been stalled by unexpected business meetings, which, much to his chagrin, he couldn't avoid.

Most people might view the younger Malfoy as a cold, intimidating aristocrat, even more so than his once menacing father Lucius Malfoy, who had somehow softened since the end of the wizarding war 10 years ago. But, Mr. Buckabee, the florist, knew a little more about the Malfoy heir than the rest of the wizarding population. He knew that there was a side of the young man which he suspected to be bordering, if not downright romantic, but was very well hidden underneath his aloofness and decidedly cold air. Mr. Buckabee respected the young man well enough not to share this 'secret side' to the public, although he was sure the press would have _loved_ to exploit _every_ single part of it, considering the Malfoys' prominent position in the wizarding world, even with Lucius' infamous past involvements with the Dark Lord.

Draco Malfoy might never demand that he keep his mouth shut over the young master's regular, annual visit to his shop, but Mr. Buckabee knew well enough that the young man somewhat trusted him to keep it a secret; there was somewhat a silent agreement between them concerning the matter. Besides, the Malfoys had been one of his top clients; what with their large companies' regular orders to his shop. So, really, there was no reason to expose the ritual visits to the press.

Mr. Buckabee called it a ritual because, indeed, the young Malfoy heir had been religiously visiting his shop once a year, _every_ September 19, for perhaps the past decade. He had never bothered stepping his feet inside the shop in between, and Mr. Buckabee communicated only with some low-rank staffers of the Malfoys' firms when they made orders to his shop.

Every September 19, however, the young Mr. Malfoy paid a special visit to his shop. He always came alone picking a stem of a white rose among the florist's most precious rose collections by himself, examining it carefully, before handing over to the old man some Galleons, worth maybe dozens times the actual price of each rose.

He never spoke, and Mr. Buckabee never asked. There was something about the young man's devoted, silent action that made him deeply respect and feel somewhat a sympathy toward him, which was why he decided against questioning the not-so-ordinary ritual. Not that he dared 'force' an answer out of him.

Nevertheless, Mr. Buckabee had decided long ago that the roses couldn't have been for the young man's mother, for there was a too intense romantic air about it. And, weird as it was, they were even more impossibly for his wife, because everyone knew the Malfoy heir had only met the woman who now became his wife four years ago, before their wedding (the 'history' of the relationship had been published all over the papers). That white rose-purchasing ritual, however, had lasted for 10 years now, if he calculated correctly.

They were for a woman, he needed not to guess. But, as to whom that woman was, it remained a mystery. The old florist had been indeed dying to know; he wanted to know whom this special woman was that had inspired such a religious devotion within the mind of the otherwise aloof and cold Malfoy heir. There was a sad air about all of this, Mr. Buckabee also decided. He could sense an intense longing in the young man's eyes and gestures as he stared pensively at every rose, and in the way he carefully picked and treated those roses; as he was doing just now.

He now heard the young man murmuring, though he couldn't quite catch the words.

_"Through her alone I woke to life the truest. And dared to lift my face with joy the newest …"*_ Draco recited a sentence from a Muggle literature he had came across, as he stared pensively at the white rose on his hand. The rose painfully reminded him of his Hermione. Pure, and beautiful. He inhaled it calmly, before turning around, facing the elder, shorter man with the same emotionless countenance. He nonchalantly took some Galleons from his pocket, handing them over to the florist, who responded with another friendly smile on his wrinkled face.

Draco closed his eyes then, concentrating on a place, and then Apparating, leaving the old florist alone with his guesses.

* * *

Draco popped out in the middle of a pavement dividing into two the rows of dark tombs at the wizarding cemetery in the outskirt of London. The chilly wind blew upon the falling leaves, which were rather dark in colors, fitting the gloomy air about the cemetery. It was indeed chilly, and too eerily quiet. But, Draco paid no heed. He walked purposefully toward the end of the pavement, with the white rose secured in his hand, before turning left just a few meters before the back gate of the cemetery. He then walked straight to the end of the line, where a tomb sitting alone at a corner, separated from the rest, finally coming into view. He stopped before the tomb, staring at it for quite some time, before silently moving to cut off the vines covering the front part of the placard.

He left those covering the other sides of the tomb before stepping back to look at the result of his work. He read silently, for the umpteenth time, the words that still managed to bring him dread, even until now:

_ "HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER (1979-1998) _

_ Our beloved friend, daughter, and scholarly hero. _

_ Your gone is our great loss, and the Heaven's precious gain."_

Draco again fell silent, lost in a hazy train of thoughts, before bending down to put the white rose at the foot of the tomb.

"Happy birthday, Hermione … " he whispered, closing his eyes, forcing himself to feel enough with merely giving her another white rose for her birthday; to stop the train of thoughts that always easily led to his foolish, bleak hopes for more.

Draco silently contemplated that Hermione would have been 29 by now, almost a year older than him, had she survived...

He stood still for some more time, before deciding to end the grave visit. He did not want to leave yet, wanted to stay as close to her as possible. But he knew staying here would not make him feel any better; for she was dead, buried six feet under. He honestly didn't know what could make him feel better these days.

Draco turned around, only to meet the sight of a tall, lanky man by the name of Ronald Weasley, although he was no longer as lanky as he had been while they had gone to school in Hogwarts.

Ron had drawn to a halt in the middle of the path that led to Hermione's grave as he had seen the tall blond standing silently before the tomb. And now that the latter turned around and moved away from the tomb, he saw the long-stemmed white rose lying there.

Neither of the man spoke nor moved, regarding each other silently, until Draco decided to break the silence.

"Weasley," he gave him a curt nod, which was replied with,

"Malfoy," from Ron, who also nodded at him.

Ron still regularly visited his two best friends' tombs every year, especially during their birthdays, and had been wondering who had always put a single white rose on Hermione's tomb on her birthday. It had been happening since she had died, but he had never caught the culprit, who had seemed to always come far earlier than him, until today that is.

For some reasons he couldn't quite put his finger on, Ron was not so surprised it appeared to be Malfoy. He had long ago ended his hostility toward the blond, upon learning from an auror that Malfoy had helped him dodge the Killing Curse that had almost ended his life during the night of the Final Battle.

He had actually also heard about the rumor that the young Malfoy heir had been found cradling lifeless Hermione in his arms, not long after the battle had ended. Ron had not believed the story back then, but, now, seeing him here with the white rose, he started making connections, and … did not know how to react about this new finding.

Draco walked past him as both of them remained silent. Only after he came very near to the main pavement that the last member of the Golden Trio spoke up,

"I would approve."

Draco stopped, and turned his head toward the red head, who was apparently facing him. He silently waited for him to continue.

"I would have approved of it; I wouldn't have rejected you … and her; had … had things ended … differently."

His old self would laugh at Weasley's face for saying those "approving" remarks. He did not need anyone's approval, let alone of a Weasley, to do what he wanted to do, including having a relationship with the red head's best friend.

But, Draco understood what the not-so-articulate former Gryffindor was trying to say. They would never turn into friends, Weasley would never regard him as a friend as he wouldn't him; but he wouldn't have tried to break anything developing between him and Hermione had things … been indeed different.

"She …" Weasley continued, although rather hesitantly, "… she cared … about you. I knew how glad she was hearing that you left Voldemort to join us. She tried to hide it, but I … I could see the sparks in her eyes as she heard the news."

Draco felt a new rush of emotions spreading in his system. He managed to remain silent, though, before replying briefly, "Thank you," and then turning around and walking away from Weasley, feeling his eyes on his back. His steps were at their previous pace before Weasley interrupted his departure, but the farther he was from the other man, the faster the steps, as more and more waves of the new emotions were now gathering in his chest, making him feel like exploding. It took some time before he finally managed to force himself to calm down, to concentrate on a place, and then Disapparating.

* * *

He dropped to his knees as he arrived at said place, which was no other than a large room in his private cottage at the far North; his private sanctuary, no one knew of its existence, not even his family. He groaned loudly, before finally managing to gather himself and stand up, striding toward the large windows facing a magnificent scene of a valley.

He harshly opened the adjacent door to the balcony, walking straight toward the railing. He made an abrupt stop there, staring emptily at the scenic view, digesting the new, unexpected information from Weasley. He didn't know how to feel about that.

Surely he couldn't help but feeling a sort of excitement, for it seemed that he had had a chance after all, that his feelings for her hadn't been completely unrequited. But, those were the key words: _hadn't been_. For what of use the information was now that she had gone? It only made him regret her death even more, knowing now that things could have worked well between the two of them _if_ she only had stayed alive.

It was in the middle of this new emotional turmoil that an ugly brown owl flew toward Draco, who immediately noticed the creature for it was too deadly quiet and still around the cottage, which sat on an edge of a cliff and whose remaining part that did not face the green gorge was surrounded by a small wood.

Another new rush of emotions hit him, this time of anticipation, for he recognized the owl, which looked like it had been ambushed by a tornado or a storm; its feathers a mess and it flew rather unsteadily before dropping a parchment on Draco's opened hand and then landing on the single table at the balcony. It_ had_ most probably flown through storms and tornados in the past, for its owner seemed to be ignorant enough to send his owl across distant regions in Russia, through what Draco thought might as well be some extreme and cruel weathers, without paying attention to its health. Seeing that it remained alive, with rather menacing eyes, however, Draco concluded that the owl was much tougher than it seemed. He took pity on it, though, and decided to conjure some treats for the creature, who now indulged them happily.

He then quickly paid his attention back on the wrapped parchment, and felt his heartbeat soar as he was thinking of dozens of possibilities of what could be inside of it.

Blaise had helped him reach the 'eccentric' Russian wizard several months ago, and Draco had agreed that the man was indeed … well, eccentric; not only from the way he dressed, but also the way he gestured and talked and chuckled. He seemed honest, though, and had immediately -and ecstatically- welcomed Draco's intention to fully fund his Time Turner project.

Draco had demanded that he temporarily move his lab to London, so that it would be easier for him to monitor the development of the research.

He rarely paid the Russian a visit, though, as Draco honestly felt skeptical about the research. He might be putting high hopes on it, but wasn't actually expecting much. He only thought he needed to give it all out before deciding to give up; though he could not at all see himself detaching Hermione, even if what remained of her were mere memories, if that was the meaning of giving up.

Draco hadn't done much to ensure that the Russian wizard do his best and not fool him, only saying - in his usual impassive tone when they were just about to seal the agreement,

"If you succeed with this project, not only will I pay all of your debts, I will also help you develop your own research center. If you fool me, I will personally make sure your research career end and you'll be known as a fake across not only Russia, but also the continent."

The man had gulped and regarded him apprehensively before the lighter part of the deal overwhelmed him and made him display that crazy grin again.

Back to present, Draco finally unwrapped the parchment, his heart still beating uncontrollably, as he started reading the unruly, almost unreadable scratch of the Russian.

His heart felt like it stopped beating for a moment then, his pose rigid, before he snapped out of his trance and then closed his eyes, the parchment still held tightly in his hand, and Disapparated once again.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER V

The room was dim, lit only by fading sunlight penetrating through the small windows across from the entrance. Three long wooden tables, with stools here and there at their sides, occupied most space of the room, while shelves filled with working tools and objects covered large part of two windowless walls facing each other. Some tools and objects, and what looked like unfinished or failed gadgets, were scattered on an edge of one of the tables.

That was the sight that met Draco's eyes as he Apparated inside the workshop. It had been formerly an unused Potions lab run by one of his companies, but given the unused status and the rather secluded location, which was in a building far from the center of the wizarding London, Draco had decided to make use of it as a research workshop for the Russian wizard; where the latter could do his Time Turner project freely, without probing from some nosey, unwanted onlookers.

Seeing that nobody was in the room, Draco diverted his eyes to a door at a far corner, diagonally across from the entrance. Sound of rustling and a chair being dragged came from the half-opened door, so Draco decided to walk toward it.

His footsteps echoed in the empty workshop, and made the rustling sound at the adjacent room stop at once. So, before he managed to reach the door, it was completely opened and out came a wizard in mid 50s; his shoulder-length, copper hair a mess and so was his crumpled, light blue lab suit the man seemingly adopted from muggles. His half-moon spectacles reminded Draco too much of the late Dumbledore, but that toothless and maniacal grin on his badly-shaved face immediately countered the effect.

"Mr. Malfoy! Didn't know you would be coming this soon," he exclaimed in a fluent English but with a thick accent Draco could only guess as Russian. He had barely met a Russian before, let alone have a secret project with them.

"Mr. Petrov," he curtly nodded, before continuing, ignoring the elder man's comment, "I trust you have something to share?"

"Oh yes, yes. Of course I do. That's why I sent you the mail, didn't I? Come, Mr. Malfoy, I'll show it to you in my office."

He allowed Draco to enter first, before following in and closing the door behind him. The room was much smaller than the workshop, but was still large for an office room and was better lit. Thankfully, unlike its occupier, it was also rather neat, excepting for a few piles of papers dumped on a corner.

"Please, Mr. Malfoy, have a seat," he brought him to his desk before shuffling to a tall glass cabinet next to the window, retrieving something, and then he returned to the desk, sitting on the chair across from Draco, and put the thing on the desk.

"This, Mr. Malfoy, is the Time Turner," he revealed a golden pocket watch attached to a golden chain; the lid being opened. He pushed it toward Draco for closer look.

The blond only stared at it for a moment; somehow he didn't feel like all of these were real. Was he really going to go to the past to see her? Would he really be able to see her again?

In the end he decided to take the watch, and examined the elegant and beautifully intricate design of the lid, and then of the Roman numerals and three arrows displaying time. The thinnest, seconds arrow was moving, while the other two thicker arrows, idle, showed the present time. Draco must admitted it there, the eccentric wizard surprisingly had a quite good taste and was thoughtful enough to disguise the Time Turner as a common object.

"How does it work? How are you sure it's really working anyway?" He looked up from the watch, staring straight into the other wizard's eyes.

The Russian sighed, and slumped on his chair. "I'll answer the second question first." He inhaled before continuing,

"As I've told you in the letter, Mr. Malfoy, it's impossible to test it for a 10-year backward journey. Let me explain. I've tested it for hours, days and months backward journeys and I can assure it works very well. You can test it for yourself. For years journey, however, I've only tested two years backward and two years forward. It works just as fine, but apparently there are too much pressures for the Time Turner that it always ended up badly damaged as I returned to the present. I've had to repair it all over again, that's why despite all the abundant resources you've provided for me, it's taken longer that I expected to finish this.

"Now, for 10 years journey, I have multiplied the strength of the Time Turner to max, the foremost that I could do, so based on my calculations it should be enough for 10 years journey, backward or ahead. I cannot guarantee, however, if it would remain intact for a return trip. And I'm really sorry, Mr. Malfoy, but I can't risk testing it for if it's indeed broken as I arrive somewhere in 1998, I couldn't possibly gather all the resources that I'd need to repair it. It would most certainly take years, especially because a lot of materials and enchantments that I've used to produce this Time Turner haven't been invented at that time. I can assure you, however, that so far this is the best Time Turner ever produced; no others can even remotely come close to its ability," Igor Petrov ended his explanation with a mixture of smug and yet worrisome expression. He anxiously waited for the young Malfoy heir to respond.

Draco kept silent, absorbing all the information. Only after Igor's mind began to wander outside the room in boredom of waiting, although at the same time he was also feeling more and more apprehensive about the younger wizard's possible reactions, that the latter spoke up.

"But, you're sure this can travel 10 years backward?" He again stared Igor right in the eyes, an impassive and somehow also intimidating stare which made the elder man wonder how someone as young as the British wizard could produce that kind of effect.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, I'm very sure! I'd give you my life as a guarantee for the success of this Time Turner."

"Now, how would I be able to claim your life when you said yourself you can't guarantee I can return here?"

The elder wizard stared at the blond with horrified expression, coughing nervously, but saying nothing in return for he didn't know how to respond to such question.

"Never mind," Draco decided to end the other wizard's dilemma and continued to a more important matter. "So you said this could bring me 10 years to the past? What about 12 years?"

Igor fidgeted a little, still traumatized by the previous question, but he answered him nevertheless, "Actually, Mr. Malfoy, the maximum power I've embedded in the device, based on my calculations, can bring you to up to 15 years backward or forward. But again I must tell you there's no guarantee of successful returning; either the gadget gets completely damaged as you arrive or, if it's not, it'll only be able to bring you a few years forward in your return trip, or even somewhere in a completely different timeline because it'll be most likely broken while in the process of transporting you back to the present."

Draco fell silent in contemplation again before deciding to ignore the risk, for the moment at least, and move forward to another question, "So, how does it work?"

Igor was surprised with the sudden change of the topic, but answered the blond nevertheless, explaining that each one rotation of the thickest arrow, depending whether it was moved leftward or rightward, meant one year to the future or to the past. The minute arrow meant month-based time travel, while the seconds arrow day-based. He said he had to skip the hour-based function in favor of more reliable year-based journeys.

* * *

It was a week after Draco had received the letter on the Time Turner. Afterward he had met the Russian again several times to discuss in detail the property of the device, and to test its function.

And now, standing in a large room in his private cottage was a tall, dark-haired boy about 17 or 18 years old, who was impassively looking at his reflection on the body-length mirror.

"Tell me again where you found the … _substance_ for the Polyjuice Potion?" Blaise Zabini, one of his eyebrows raised, asked from where he was cozily seated on a single sofa near the bed, as Draco rolled the sleeves of his black turtleneck shirt to his elbows. His now dark-haired, amber-eyed reflection stared back at him as he did so.

"In a muggle park in London. He was the first decent-looking bloke around this age I came across when I looked around the area," Draco replied as he turned around, leaving the mirror for a nearby large desk where a neat pile of garments, a black backpack, an expensive-looking pocket watch and some other stuff were scattered around. He began to put one by one the stuff into the backpack as he decided to add,

"And he's about my height, my size; I reckoned it would make things more simple. I don't need to alter the size of my clothing, for one."

"So you decided to just stun him and rob him of his hair?" Blaise again asked, amused.

"Sort of that," his no longer blond friend replied.

"Seeing the amount of the Polyjuice Potions you've made, I guess you left the poor bloke bald then?" Blaise continued as he glanced at dozens of flasks containing dark yellow liquids inside a styrofoam-equipped cardboard box on the floor, at the feet of the desk.

Draco shrugged, and then waved his wand at the box, muttering a spell which made the box and the content shrink in size. He bent down to collect it, sealed the lids with another spell, and then shoved it into the backpack, which Blaise had now learned to be a charmed container, able to contain much more stuff than its outward appearance suggested.

"Well, one thing for sure; I guess it'll be indeed easier for you to approach _her_ with that kind of look," Blaise smirked.

Draco ignored his friend's attempt to tease him, although he silently agreed. The way he looked with the new body was not among top things on his mind as he was preparing for the time travel mission, but surely a decent look, although he was careful as not to pick a too attention-drawing one, could come in handy.

He would rather keep his own face, but that would be troublesome and counterproductive to his mission, wouldn't it? His 28-year-old self surely looked different from his 17-year-old one; taller, more mature, with more prominent jaw line and all, but the overall figure, especially his trademark platinum blond hair and grey eyes, would be a dead giveaway; not to mention it looked noticeably too old for an 18 year old. So he decided to change his look, and had made a stock of Polyjuice Potions that he hoped would be enough until his mission was completed. The glamour charm was too weak and thus too risky for the very likely long mission.

Speaking of the completion of the mission, Draco actually did not know exactly how he would be able to accomplish it. He didn't even now in detail what he wanted to achieve with the mission but for the larger picture: save her, make sure she would be alive.

He dismissed the part that he wouldn't likely be able to return to the present. That was the least thing to worry about, for what mattered to him now was that he could finally really see her again, hopefully. He honestly still felt skeptical about the Time Turner, not sure if it would really bring him to her. But he would never know if he didn't try, would he?

Blaise regarded his friend silently, now reminded that this sounding highly-impossible mission could mean they would never meet again. Draco had earlier informed him of the flaw of the Time Turner, and Blaise had yelled at him in response, saying it was clearly overly risky with no immediate guarantee it would be a success. Draco had then tried to calm him down, saying Igor Petrov had provided him with his address in late '90s, so Draco could look out for him once the mission was completed and he was ready to return home. But, Blaise knew how his friend was actually feeling very skeptical about being able to return, and how it was also perhaps the last thing in mind. In the end he decided to stop his protests and objections, though. Draco had been determined, and Blaise understood how important the mission was for his friend.

"So, you've visited Weasley for the needed information?" Blaise decided to focus on another part of the mission.

"Yes", was another short reply from his friend.

"So? Did he decide to tell you about the Horcruxes?"

Draco nodded.

Blaise chuckled here. "Funny how you end up befriending a Weasley, and Ronald Weasley on top of that, because of … of the outcomes of the war. Anyway, so he trusts you enough to give you all those vital information? Nobody really knows where those Horcruxes had been kept. Well, actually very few even know there are such things as Horcruxes and how they played role in Voldemort's resurrection and then his defeat. I wouldn't know if you hadn't told me, and I know no others who know anything about it. Tell me again how you came to know of it at first place?"

Draco sighed, hating that he had to repeat the story.

"I accidentally heard the conversation between Weasley and McGonagal not long after the Final Battle, while they thought they were alone in that room at the ministry," he decided to repeat only the shorter part of it, though.

"Ok, now I remember. What about what Weasley told you? You came to his place at the Burrow?"

"He doesn't live in the Burrow, Blaise. He has long ago lived in this small house in Yorkshire. I guess he's been there since he married his wife."

"That Abbot girl from Hufflepuff? I heard they have three kids now?"

"Yes. Two twin boys and a girl."

"Wow, they're rather productive. Wasn't it only like five years ago they got married?"

"I don't even know why we're now talking about Weasley's marriage; thought you were asking me about the Horcruxes. I didn't know you're so interested about Weasley's life. Anyway, you're mistaken. They got married one or two years after the Final Battle."

"Sorry, sorry," But Blaise didn't look sorry at all; he was pleased he could trigger a reaction from his cold friend, who now looked rather irked. He decided against making him feel more irked, though. "Okay, so can you please tell me now about what he told you about the Horcruxes?"

So Draco relayed the information that he had gathered from Weasley; what the Horcruxes were, how many of them, where their locations were, and how to destroy them.

Although all the Horcruxes had now been destroyed, Voldemort had died and the wizarding world was now again at peace (all the remaining Death Eaters had been arrested and put in Azkaban; most of them were given the Dementor's Kiss); Draco thought it was more likely that his mission to save Hermione would be successful with earlier destruction of the Horcruxes.

Yes, he had decided to venture 12 years into the past instead of 10 years; more precisely at the beginning of his sixth year at Hogwarts. Preventing the murder of Dumbledore, he reckoned, would do better to the situation, preventing it from evolving into a too serious and bad circumstance which he wasn't sure he would be able to cope with even with his elder self, who was undoubtedly more skilled and knowledged then his 17-year-old one.

So, September 1996 was his destination. He would penetrate Hogwarts as a new student and prevented his 17-year-old self from smuggling the Death Eaters into the castle, thus hopefully save Dumbledore and make the destruction of the Horcurxes come sooner, subsequently sooner death for Voldemort, and, finally, a safe and alive Hermione.

That was the big plan, the detail of which could hopefully come along later on as he was executing the mission.

He was sharing now the plan with Blaise, who had just inquired him of the issue. Blaise offered him some inputs, which Draco thought quite valuable and might actually work. He felt even more confident about his mission now.

Draco finally finished his packing, and was now putting on his traveling cloak. Blaise stood up and came closer to his friend, and seated himself at the now empty desk. His mood notably changed, as he realized this could mean a forever farewell between him and his best friend.

"Draco," he started with a difficulty, as there was suddenly a significant lump in his throat.

Draco turned around, now facing him, the backpack attached on his left shoulder while the hand held his wand. Before Blaise managed to continue, however, the former blond took a pile of papers from the desk and handed them down to him. Blaise stared at him inquiringly.

"These are some work-related documents, a letter for my parents, and … my will, for them and my wife have I not returned."

"Draco …"

"Some of my private properties, including this cottage, would be passed on to you if I don't return after a year. And I've appointed you as the president director of the holding company during my absence."

"Have you … informed your parents, and … your wife, about this?"

Draco shook his head. "You and Petrov are the only ones who know."

"Weasley?"

"He didn't ask why I inquired him about the Horcruxes, and I don't feel obliged to tell."

"What am I supposed to say, if people ask?"

"Just tell them I'm doing a long travel; and that I won't be back soon and don't want to be found. That's what I told my parents in the letter."

"Merlin, Draco! I think at least your wife deserves to know! Or you could at least write her a letter too! You're_ really_ really abandoning her, you know? She has feelings, in case you forget."

Draco only stared at his friend for a moment, before replying, gesturing to the papers that were now on Blaise's hands.

"There's a copy of my divorce document there. I've sent the original one to my lawyer, and he said by tomorrow she would be free from me."

Blaise stared at him, disbelievingly. "I know how much you love Hermione, Draco. But, Cecilia hasn't done anything wrong to you. She doesn't deserve any of this."

"She knows long ago I don't and can never care about her, let alone love her. She knows long ago it's only a matter of time before I leave her. Writing her a letter would only make her falsely hope for something I cannot give her. It'll be even worse for her."

Draco watched his friend, waiting for him to react. As there was barely any reactions but the Italian's sudden interest in the carpeted floor, he continued,

"I know, on the other hand, that you care very much about her."

Blaise immediately looked up, his mouth opened to protest, but Draco beat him.

"And I know those feelings you have for her can easily transform into something more have I not stand in between you two. I don't deserve her, Blaise, but you do. After I go, and after the divorce is final, you can court her if you want to. Even if I return, I wouldn't come back to her. You're right, I've hurt her too much. She deserves someone better; someone who can truly appreciate and care about her, and perhaps love her. I have for quite some time thought you're that someone, Blaise. Even without this time traveling stuff, I've seriously thought about divorcing her for you. The Time Turner … is just a catalyst."

Blaise stared at his still impassive friend, then surprised him by suddenly crushing him in a tight embrace.

Draco stiffened, but let him be, feeling the dark-haired Italian shaking. He then awkwardly raised his hand to pat his friend's shoulder lightly, hoping it would ease the latter's distress.

"Hell! Congrats, Draco! You've just officially become the first person to ever make me cry! Hope you don't share it with Potter and Weasley have you decided to befriend them in the past. Send my greetings to my old self, and of course to Hermione," Blaise said as he finally released his friend, shamefully wiping tears on his now red and rather swollen eyes, while trying to make light of the situation. He was slightly irked with his friend, who remained as impassive as he had always been, despite the situation that felt very emotional to him.

Unexpectedly, Draco drew him again in a tight embrace, albeit very briefly, before releasing and addressing him.

"Thanks for everything, Blaise. You're really the best friend I've ever had."

"You too, Draco. Shit! I'm really gonna miss you."

"I'll miss you, too," Draco smiled. The two wizards then regarded each other silently before Draco decided to really bid him farewell now, and then close his eyes and Disapparate.

Blaise stared at the empty space that had just been occupied by his friend for quite some time, before leaving the place himself.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Hello, everyone! Nice to see you again! I was meaning to put the part where Draco returned to Hogwarts in this chapter, but apparently it's too long already (the previous chapters are never this long), and I don't think I can update the story today if I insist on including that part. Maybe only after another week, for weekdays are coming...! And I've got a job to do :(.**

**Anyway, thank you SO MUCH for your reading and reviews. I appreciate especially the reviews very much; for only then I believe people actually do read my work. They're the reason I'm more inclined to continue with this story rather than "Matchmaking My Brother". If you really want me to soon update that one, I hope you would so kindly review it as well. And, btw, I'm really surprised that some of you were touched with the Draco-Ron encounter part; I didn't expect it to be 'emotionally-moving' when writing it.**

**Especially thanks to Beautiful-Soul-8909, DEfy'GRavitY95, haileydelacour101, Ravena, SNOFHYP (or RememberForever; ok I've taken a note on these other names of yours. It is indeed weird your FFID name doesn't show up), LaFayette, heartcorejasmin (my favorite reviewer! so far, for the long, insightful reviews), and, last but not least, jera :)**

**heartcorejasmin: about the birthday part, I share exactly the same view with you, perhaps that's why I rather subconsciously applied it on Draco. I didn't give it much thought when writing the part, but now I can say I completely agree with your sentence: "I want to remember the way they were when they were alive. going back to their graves on the day they died just feels wrong, like people celebrate that they died." **

**Once again, thanks for reading, everyone! And pretty please ... don't forget to REVIEW! :)**


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER VI

Draco appeared at the train station in Hogsmeade. It was daylight, and rather crowded. Some people stared at him, perhaps wondering why they had never seen him before, but he ignored them, and walked quickly toward a secluded corner. He carefully put his wand inside the backpack, and pulled out the pocket watch in return. He tightly sealed the backpack again, attaching it properly on his back, before paying full attention on the watch.

He put the chain around his neck, and then opened the lid of the watch, staring absentmindedly at the moving seconds arrow until a train whistle woke him up from his trance.

He inhaled deeply, before slowly lifting up his suddenly trembling right hand, touching the thickest arrow with the index finger.

He then began to move the arrow leftward; fingers still trembling.

"One…" he whispered, starting his count.

"Two… Three …" He continued to move the arrow, continued the count.

His heartbeat was getting faster on each count, and then almost stopped as he was nearing the 12th.

"Twelve …" He muttered, before his index finger moved upward and pushed the button on top of the "XII" numeral.

Nothing happened for a moment. But then suddenly everything was blurring, and he began to feel like his feet were leaving the ground, and then he felt spiraling movements that made him so dizzy he decided to shut his eyes tightly. The spiraling movements continued, and then he felt like his entire body was being sucked strongly into a narrow pit. Then he felt like his body was being jerked, and then he started falling freely, spiraling fast, being sucked again, this time even more strongly, into what felt like an endless, dark narrow tunnel. Just as he was getting more sickened and was about to black out, his body collided harshly with something solid, perhaps the ground, and then the spiraling and being sucked sensations all disappeared.

Draco was still conscious, but felt very sick, and thought he would most likely throw up if he dared opening his eyelids. So, he decided to simply lay still for a moment.

Someone, however, obviously disagreed with him. They roughly shook his arm, from the feeling of it they were most definitely a man who couldn't seem to differ between trying to wake someone up and hurting them. The heavy voice confirmed it was indeed a man.

"Hey, boy! Wake up! Yer not dead, aren' you? What are yeh doin' 'ere layin' around like that?"

Draco ignored him, wishing the man to go away for he needed just a moment to recover, for Merlin's sake!

But, the oaf insisted on disagreeing with him, and now started slapping Draco 'lightly' on the cheek with his seemingly overly large and rough hand.

Draco groaned, completely irked with the man who just couldn't seem to mind his own business! He opened his eyes, wincing at the sunlight, and then his blurred view slowly but surely began to clear up.

"Good ol' Merlin, yer alive!"

Draco snapped toward the man, ready to give him some piece of mind, only to meet the view of a half-giant whom he had used to know rather well. Rubeus Hagrid was supposed to have been dead, as a lot of others during the Final Battle, but looked completely just fine right now.

Draco abruptly sat up, but almost fell again had the half-giant not caught his arm and balanced him. He kept supporting him as Draco finally found the strength to speak.

"What … what year is it now?" his voice was hoarse.

"Why? 1996 o' course," Hagrid replied unsuspectingly, which Draco immediately thanked Merlin for because he just realized now asking what year one was in was not something normal to do.

"And it's September, right? What's the date again?"

"It's September 26, boy. Yeh must be feelin' very sick to askin' me those. What 'appened? Some Death Eaters attacked yeh?"

Draco thought quickly, and then shook his head, "No. I just Apparated. Have only gained my license recently, so it looks like I haven't gone a smooth trip."

Draco felt better now, so he detached himself from the half-giant's dead grip. He looked around, and saw a not-so-crowded Hogsmeade train station. He was still unsure if this was a reality, or was he only dreaming. He decided to do just what he needed to do, though, and thought he couldn't have been any luckier, meeting no other than the unsuspecting, looking-concerned Hogwarts groundskeeper, who could of course make it easier for him to access the school once he was able to gain his trust. He honestly hadn't really thought about how exactly to access the school before doing the trip. Hogwarts was undoubtedly in a very tight security right now, otherwise his 17-year-old self wouldn't have been ordered to repair the Vanishing Cabinet to smuggle his aunt and the other Death Eaters into the castle.

"I need to see Dumbledore!" Draco immediately exclaimed.

Hagrid looked at him questioningly, this time a little bit suspiciously, before replying, "Why would yeh do that, Son?"

"Look, I know this might be suspicious; at … times like this. But, I really need to see the headmaster. My parents have just died, and I want to attend Hogwarts as a new student. He is surely capable to decide whether or not Hogwarts should accept me. And if you don't trust me you can keep my wand so you can be assured I won't harm anyone," Draco immediately looked into his backpack to take the wand, but Hagrid's giant hand stopped him.

"No need for that, boy. I trus' yeh. An' Dumbledore, yeah the ol' man can see if yer really good or not."

"Thank you," Draco felt relieved; he just secured an access to Hogwarts. Hopefully other things would follow as smoothly.

Hagrid then stood up, and offered his hand to help Draco stand, too. The former blond took it, and was immediately reminded of the half-giant's superhuman strength. His pull was so strong Draco winced; he felt like his arm being almost ripped off of its socket.

Draco smoothed down his crumpled cloak and cleaned dirt and dust off it. He then took in his surroundings, noticing a few differences here and there about the station between this time period and the future, as Hagrid gestured him to follow him. Draco had quite a struggle to follow the giant steps of the half-giant.

"What's yer name, boy?" Hagrid snapped him out of his thoughts.

Draco took some time to answer, for he was still feeling slightly disoriented. Before Hagrid got any near suspicious, though, the former blond answered smoothly,

"Dmitry. Dmitry Rothmund. And you're Rubeus Hagrid, I trust?"

"Yes, how d' yeh know?"

"I've seen some pictures of you at the Prophet."

"Oh." Hagrid was quiet for some time, before speaking up again. "Rothmun'… I don' think I ever hear that name."

"My dad was a German wizard. And we'd been living in Germany, so I don't think the name has popped out somewhere in wizarding Britain, unless of course someone or some family bear the name, too."

"And … yer mother?"

"She was from England, but a muggle. You wouldn't know her if I mention her name."

Hagrid seemed to be satisfied with his answers, making Draco again feel relieved. Thanks Blaise for helping construct the story. The Italian had very good imaginations, and that appeared to come in handy at times like this. It would be easier for Draco to lie and keep up with the fake identity if he couldn't be linked to any known names in the wizarding Britain. Thus the mixed marriage and half-muggle background, which meant Dmitry was a half-blood.

As for the name, Blaise had read out a list of male names in a file he had happened to bring with him before their last meeting. It was actually a list of candidates applying for some new positions in one of the Malfoys' companies.

Draco had then picked Dmitry, for he remembered his grandfather had wanted to name him so before his father settled with his mother's choice instead. Narcissa had insisted on a name that followed the tradition of the Blacks family, which named the male offspring based on constellations.

No, it had nothing to do with Draco's recent association with the Russian inventor.

Anyway, choosing the surname had been easier because there were only a few non-British names on the list, and Blaise had immediately recommended Rothmund.

"It has a nice ring with Dmitry, and it'll give you a non-British background," the Italian had simply said.

* * *

Hagrid questioned Draco about his imaginary parents' death along their trip to the castle on a cart drawn by a thestral, and Draco had to act as if he was in a mourning state, which wasn't really difficult, considering he had been a rather gloomy character from the start. It looked like his acting was not useless, though, for Hagrid immediately sympathized with him, believing his parents had died in a plane crash and that he had been sent to his grandmother's home in southern England for he had no one else now; and that she was too old she decided it was best for him to go to Hogwarts instead.

They finally arrived in front of the castle, the grounds of which were deserted, as most students seemed to be in their classes right now.

Draco stared at the front gate of the castle pensively, but the half-giant immediately brought him out of his stupor with his loud, heavy voice,

"This way, Dmi'ry. Nothin' to be afraid of. The headmaster is very nice, he is. He'll be very 'appy to see yeh."

Draco nodded, before following him passing through the gate and then toward the huge twin oaken doors that were the main entrance into the castle.

And now suddenly he was feeling nervous. Just earlier he still felt like this was all just a dream, but now that they were going to see the headmaster, he began to feel that perhaps this was real. And come to think of it, would he be able to fool the old man? He didn't think so. Perhaps the best way to deal with the headmaster was telling him the truth. But, what if he disagreed with him? What if he stuck to that rule that no one should mess up with times? Well, it's not like he could send Draco back to the future if he disagreed, right?

The last part of the train of thoughts made Draco unconsciously feel the Time Turner hanging on his chest. He hadn't check on it since he had arrived in this timeline. It was still there. He glanced down at it, rubbing his thumb against the lid, and opened it slightly while Hagrid was not looking.

The glass was cracked, and the seconds arrow didn't move. It was broken. He really couldn't return to the future even if he wanted to now, unless this was indeed merely a dream.

Draco immediately forgot his problem, though, as Hagrid stopped before two gargoyle statues guarding an entrance to the headmaster's office.

"Wait 'ere," Hagrid told him, which Draco responded with a nod.

Draco leaned against the nearest wall, and began paying attention to his surroundings. The corridor was deserted, and there were only walls, floors and ceilings as far as his eyes could see, so basically there was nothing to look at.

He then dropped his eyes on the Time Turner again. He lifted it up with a hand, opened the lid and examined the watch more carefully, now noticing not only all the three arrows were still, the thickest arrow was slightly cracked as well.

He sighed, and hit the back of his head against the wall slightly as it was clear now there was no turning back. He closed his eyes, letting the reality sink in, but immediately opened those now amber eyes again as the entrance to the headmaster's office was opened and Hagrid reappeared.

"Dumbledore wan' to see yeh," he said, giving Draco encouraging smile and gesturing him to come in first.

Draco rose up to his height, inhaling deeply, dismissing all worries and anxieties as he did what he was being told.

The room was much better lit than the corridor, and was notably warmer, but Draco did not have a time to relish it. He immediately came face-to-face with Albus Dumbledore, who looked at him from behind his desk in the middle of the room.

"Have a seat, please, Mr. Rothmund," he gave him a friendly smile, but Draco knew too well it was not as innocent as the old wizard made it seem to be.

He received the offer, nevertheless, and sat across from the once greatest wizard of his time after nodding curtly and replying, "Thank you".

"Hagrid, you can do what it is you need to do, I will call you back when I need your help. For now, I think I need to speak alone with Mr. Rothmund," the old wizard now directed his smile at the half-giant, who immediately bid them a cheerful farewell and left.

"Now, Mr. Rothmund, perhaps you can explain to me why is it you suddenly want to study at Hogwarts, as Hagrid has just kindly informed me?" Dumbledore continued as they were alone now.

So Draco, skeptical as he was, told the headmaster the same story he had told the half-giant, while the old wizard listened attentively. Never did the latter show signs of disbelief or doubt, in fact he kept smiling friendly at Draco all the times, but Draco knew it was not a reason for joy.

"Is that all you want to say, Mr. Rothmund?" Dumbledore said not long after Draco finished his story; his eyes never left him.

Draco maintained his gaze at the old wizard and, after some time, decided to say,

"No."

Dumbledore stared sharply at him. "There's more to it than this, am I correct?"

Draco reluctantly nodded.

Dumbledore stared at the impassive, handsome young man whose gestures made him look much older than his look.

"Do you mind if I use Legilimency on you?"

Draco shook his head defeatedly. "No, I don't mind, Headmaster." What's the purpose of avoiding the unavoidable anyway? If the Headmaster did not trust him, Draco wouldn't be allowed to wander around Hogwarts to execute his plans, and the time travel would be of no use.

"Very well, then. Thank you for allowing me, young man."

Draco only curt slightly in reply, and immediately released his mental defenses as the old wizard raised his wand, cast the charm and started probing into his mind.

He looked immediately surprised, and Draco was thankful enough that although Dumbledore spent quite some time in his head, he looked only for what he needed, and did not nosily probe further into memories Draco preferred him not seeing.

The headmaster immediately looked troubled, and tired, slumping on his chair after he left Draco's mind.

"Mr. Malfoy…"

Draco stared up at him blankly, before deciding to confirm the half-question, "Yes.."

"I… must admit that I'm quite surprised with your … visit."

Draco said nothing, waiting for him to continue.

The old wizard sighed, before continuing, "And I must admit I'm surprised that this has something to do with … Miss Granger."

Draco kept saying nothing, only staring at the wizard across from him.

"But, you must already know, Mr. Malfoy, there's nothing good coming out of interfering with times. Things happen because they're meant to be, and there's a reason for them to happen…"

"I know, Headmaster," Draco finally decided to speak. "I've thought about that." Lie. He had been wishing to turn back time since he had lost her. Luckily the old wizard hadn't probed into that part of his mind.

"But, I … I must try. And, besides, it's not like I could turn things worse than they already are. In fact, with all the knowledge I have, including how to defeat Voldemort, I'm confident that I can help make better outcomes," he added.

"Mr. Malfoy, it's a lie if I say I'm not affected with so many … deaths of those who otherwise deserve lives. But, again, things happen for a reason, Mr. Malfoy."

"Well... if that indeed what it is, then why Headmaster, the ministry allowed Time Turners to be created? I know they've set rules and such on the uses, but then again we all know how vulnerable to abuses they are. And when abused, everyone knows there's no turning back, isn't there? The future inevitably changes as the impacts, and many changes have more than likely taken place. What's so different about this, Headmaster? What's so different about my time travel?"

"Draco… even if this mission of yours is successful, what do you expect from it? That you will come home to a future where everything has changed? Where some people that you used to know in your original future die and the dead live instead in the new future you would create? You don't know what might come out of this, Draco. It might not be as you've expected. What if you lose those people you've come to know very well instead? You might never know what you've got until they're gone. What if as you head back home, some people that you actually care about are gone as a consequence of changes you make here, when they should be living happily have you not gone back to the past? You might never realize how much you care about them, Draco, until you lose them."

"You think I don't have such regrets, Headmaster?" Draco gritted his teeth, trying to suppress an anger building up within him. "Regrets of what I could and should have done are the very reason why I come back here. _Don't_ lecture me about losing someone and all, I think I know better than you, Headmaster."

Draco then leaned against the desk, where he put his clenched fist on it, glaring angrily at the old wizard as he continued his speech, "If things are indeed meant to be, then I shouldn't have arrived here at all, should I? For therefore I could very possibly cause the changes you've just kindly warned me about. Or, again if things are indeed meant to be, and the undesirable future that I have is what's meant to be, as you've kindly suggested, then whatever I'll try to do here shouldn't cause any changes whatsoever to this lifetime or the future, would they? Unless of course, Headmaster, the changes that I'm planning to make are themselves what's meant to be. Maybe the future is meant to be changed after all. Have you thought of that, Headmaster?"

"Draco…" the headmaster sighed again, "All those things that will happen, that will turn into the future that you know, happen for a reason. You shouldn't-"

"Then TELL me what the reason is, Headmaster! For I CANNOT see it!" Draco abruptly stood up, enraged with the old wizard's stubborness and _fucking_ morals!

"Or perhaps YOU can tell me, what's the reason that this GODDAMN Time Turner managed to bring me here, but CANNOT bring me back because it's BROKEN!" Draco harshly grabbed the chain that held the pocket watch, breaking it off his neck, and then threw the watch onto the desk before he turned around and left the seat, marching angrily toward the exit.

"Unless you can repair it of course," he added coldly as he halted just before the door, before disappearing behind it.

The headmaster stared at the now closed door in silence. He then reached out his hand to take the pocket watch, examining it pensively before massaging his temple that began to throb unpleasantly.

* * *

Draco stormed down the corridors and the moving stairs to the Entrance Hall, all of which remained void of students. He harshly pushed open the double oaken doors that led outside, marching angrily across the similarly deserted grounds toward the lake.

He stopped under a tree that stood alone on a nearby shore, clenching and unclenching his fists, his body shaking in anger.

_Damn_ _Dumbledore!_ Draco yelled inwardly, his fist finally landed on the tree trunk. He pushed it further into the rough bark, ignoring bloods that began to leak from his torn skin.

The old coot _just_ couldn't see reasons! Why did he have to so narrow-mindedly stick to the rules? It's not like the ministry ever really controlled the uses of Time Turners to ensure they wouldn't be abused! And what Draco would do with his mission was aimed for good anyway. Why couldn't the old man see reasons?

Then Draco began to feel hopeless. If Dumbledore didn't agree with his mission, there would be nothing he could do to save her. He wouldn't be able to prevent the Death Eaters from coming into Hogwarts, wouldn't be able to prevent the old coot from getting murdered (he began to feel perhaps it was for the best anyway), and afterward he knew it would be very difficult to ensure her safety. Outside Hogwarts she would be completely out of reach, and Draco wouldn't be able to protect her as he had been planning to do. She would be as vulnerable as she had been, before death had taken her away from him.

Draco wearily leaned his shoulder, and then head, against the tree; despair and exhaustion overtook him. Suddenly he just felt so tired with all of these, felt like all he wanted to do was resting, sleeping and never waking up again.

It didn't take long, however, for him to wallow in misery; for noises, and then an approaching beautiful ring of laughter, and now a shriek, woke him up from his daze.

He turned around, only to find papers and parchments flew out at his direction. He instinctively reached out and grabbed them, picking some that had touched the ground, realizing they belonged to a girl who had perhaps slipped or something, and was now kneeling, busily collecting other papers and parchments around herself.

He heard her curse, and that was when he saw _her_.

Her soft, chocolate brown locks framing her nicely-shaped oval face, her creamy white skin, her long and thick eyelashes, her deep red lips … His heart immediately beat faster, soaring out of control. But, he stood-still, petrified, as he watched her finish collecting her stack of papers, and now rise up and look up at him, meeting his eyes.

Time immediately felt like stopping, and so were all other things around them but her, as she walked slowly toward him. Her big, beautiful hazel eyes stared up at him inquiringly, her lips curving awkwardly as she hesitantly flashed him a smile.

"Thank you," she said, her voice the most beautiful music in the world, as she halted an arm away from him.

Still he was too stunned to react, and so she seemed getting confused. His too intense stare, he realized, made her squirm, but the Gryffindor in her made her defiantly look up at him straight in the eyes, her eyes still inquiring, as she started again,

"Uhm… So. Can I please have my-"

She was cut off, and shrieked, as he, following years-long, deep-rooted urges, abruptly pulled her in a tight embrace, securing her soft body in his strong arms. She squirmed, trying to wriggle away as she beaten his chest, and then, seeing it didn't work, put her palms flatly on it, applying maximum force to push him away.

But, Draco, who easily towered over her petite frame, didn't budge. He drew her even closer, ignoring her struggle, encircling his arms over her waist more tightly -if that was even possible- in the blissful embrace, as she finally calmed down, perhaps giving up already. He relished the feeling of her warmth, soft curves that melded perfectly against his body, and inhaled deeply her nice and calming fragrance as he rested his cheek against her soft hair.

"Hermione…" Draco whispered, as suddenly all his miseries evaporated, and all he felt was peace and contentment, like he was finally coming home to a place that he had always been yearning for, like his constant thirst was finally being quenched.

For the first time in years, Draco Malfoy again felt complete.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Hello, happy to finally see you again! What do you think of this chapter? I've got a little bit difficulty writing Hagrid, with his accent. Do you think those words believably sound like coming from him? Anyway, want to know what you think about Draco's finally arriving in the past, and his meeting with Hagrid, Dumbledore, and Hermione. Do you like them? Critics and inputs are always welcome!

And LOADS of thanks to all of you who have reviewed; you're the reason I keep updating!

To Astanley1991 : so, what do you think of the time travel? You seemed to be quite impatient about the stall :D

To Gabrielle Dashwood : thanks, you rock too! do you still find this latest chapter rock as well?

To LaFayette: wow, you wrote 2 reviews for the 5th chapter. Thx! Hope this 6th chapter can pay off

To harrypotterbook4fan : Thx for reviewing :). Still looking forward to your next reviews

To jera: So... is this update soon enough for you? Guess not; sorrrry...! Thx for keep on reviewing. Don't forget to review again! :D

To heartcorejasmin : Congrats for your graduation! So you'll be soon entering university, or else? Feel like so long ago I had my last exams .. Anyway, yes of course you're my favorite; as I said I genuinely like your long and insightful reviews; hope you'll keep on doing that.

To 4SnowWolf: so, what do you think of Draco's 'reasoning' before Dumbledore about meddling with time and 'meant-to-be' and all? Thx for reviewing :)


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER VII

The last thing Draco remembered before darkness overtook him was a male voice shouting 'Stupefy!', after which he felt a shock of air attacked his back and then he collapsed.

When he opened his eyes again, they met white everywhere.

He tried to sit up from the bed he was apparently tucked in, but soon fell on the pillow again, moaning, as he felt an overwhelming light-headedness.

Hustle and bustle were soon heard, followed by a high-pitched voice of an elderly woman.

"Oh, you're awake! Hear, drink this, my boy. You have a minor concussion, but nothing that magic can't heal."

Draco re-opened his eyes, and this time met the sight of Hogwarts' matron, Madam Pomfrey. He obeyed her instruction, and gulped down the content of the vial she had stretched out toward his lips.

"Good. You'll feel better any seconds, but I suggest that you continue your rest until dinner time. You seem pretty worn out."

"What happened?"

He saw her countenance change rapidly from a look of concern to that of an annoyance. But, she was interrupted before she managed to spurt a single word.

"I'm taking over from here, Poppy," Albus Dumbledore came out of nowhere.

The matron grumbled but took off nevertheless, leaving the headmaster chuckling to himself before he fully faced Draco and smiled at him.

"Mr. Rothmund…" But he stopped upon seeing the questioning look on Draco's eyes.

"I trust it is better that we keep referring to you with the name … to prevent confusion."

Now Draco stared at the old wizard blankly, which made the latter sigh before conjuring a chair to the bedside and seating himself there.

The headmaster then muttered _Muffliato_, preventing anyone from hearing their conversation, and then continued his speech.

"I've checked your Time Turner, Draco. You're right. It's badly damaged. I think you'll have to stay here for I don't know how long."

The headmaster looked at him, waiting for any response. But Draco kept silent, so he continued again,

"I'll see what I can do to repair it. In the mean time, I reckon it is best for you to stay in Hogwarts."

He saw the drastic change on the young man's face, which immediately looked rather relieved, thus quickly added, "I still think it is best, though, that you avoid _any_ measures that _could _interfere with the timeline."

His tone, and his gaze, were full of warning, but Draco was undeterred as he stared back at the elder wizard challengingly. Draco also didn't plan to inform him of Igor Petrov's existence and how the Russian wizard that was now still stuck in Siberia might be the only one who could do something with the Time Turner.

Dumbledore finally ended their staring contest and shrugged, albeit rather defeatedly, "Well, I have warned you."

He then only stared at the young man's face for some time, before adding, "I'll present you as a new student during dinner, which will be an hour from now, and you'll be sorted by the Sorting Hat to put you in the house that will host you during your stay here. I know, it'll most likely put you in Slytherin again, but we'll need the sorting session to prevent anyone from questioning why you're immediately put in Slytherin, if that's what I would do. You can keep your cover story; I think it's good enough and it's for the best. Now, do you have any questions regarding this arrangement, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Can I please do the sixth year?"

Dumbledore looked at him sharply, but Draco's face betrayed no emotion.

The elder wizard let out another sigh, before replying, "Your outer appearance strikes me more as a seventh-year. But, you could still past me for a sixth-year. Well, if that's what you want … I don't see why I should forbid you from entering one class or the other."

Draco nodded.

"Any other questions?"

Draco thought for a second, then decided to give it another try. He sat up, this time felt no lightheadedness whatsoever, and leaned toward the headmaster and spoke in a low tone, although he knew no one could hear them.

"I _know_ about the _Horcruxes_, Headmaster. Are you _sure _you don't need any help?"

Dumbledore stared impassively at him, as his hand began casually stroking his grey-white beard.

"Let's pretend that you've never mentioned the word to me, and let's not speak of it again. Ever," he finally replied, still impassively, but with finality in his tone.

Draco sighed, and slumped on his pillow again, purposefully turning his head right, away from the headmaster's gaze.

"Do you need anything for your school supply? Do you need … some financial assistance perhaps, or anything else for that matter?"

"I don't need anything, Headmaster," he replied without looking back.

"Well, if you do, you can ask for Hagrid's favor. He'll be very happy to help you."

"Yes, Headmaster."

"Well, if that's all, I'll be waiting for you in the Great Hall, in an hour."

Draco did not reply this one, but turned his head nevertheless when he heard Dumbledore rise up from his chair.

"Wait, Headmaster. My previous question hasn't been answered."

Dumbledore turned around, one of his eyebrows raised.

"Why am I here? In the infirmary, I mean."

He unexpectedly chuckled, but answered Draco nevertheless.

"Apparently a Mr. Weasley thought you were having an inappropriate intention toward his friend, a Ms. Granger. He stupefied you, and unfortunately your head hit a rock as you fell down, thus your concussion and being taken here. And I reckon Poppy must think ill of you, too, after what you did to Ms. Granger. After all she's one of her favorite pupils. I advise that next time you be more careful with your actions, Draco, especially when they concern Ms. Granger and her friends."

Dumbledore then turned around again, continuing his interrupted trip as Draco gazed at his retreating back until it disappeared from his sight.

* * *

The noises and sounds of clattering utensils and chattering students reached his ears before his feet reached the landing of the last staircase that would bring him to the Great Hall.

He stopped, and saw a few girls walk toward the same big pair of doors he was heading to. They were chatting and laughing, but stopped and looked at him as he finally descended the last stair.

Now their laughs turned into whispers and giggles, and they threw him shy and curious glances as they opened the doors that led to the Great Hall.

He only stared at the now half-opened doors for some time, before determinedly walking toward them and pushing them, opening them wider.

The nearest noises soon died down as the occupants of the nearest tables stared at him, followed by their counterparts seated farther from the entrance and, soon, the rest of the Great Hall.

Most of the students stared at him curiously, some of the girls also admiringly, but he paid none of them any heed, as he looked straight at the staff table, where the headmaster was seated in the middle, immediately facing him.

Whispers and giggles resumed, but Dumbledore soon brought silence back into the hall as he stood up and magnified his voice.

"Before you continue your dinner, I would like to make an announcement."

The students' attentions were now divided between watching the headmaster at the staff table and the tall, dark-haired stranger boy standing across the hall, just before the entrance.

"I would like to introduce to you a new student, who, due to an unexpected circumstance, has decided to continue his education at Hogwarts. He will be doing his sixth year here, and I hope you will make good friends of him and make him feel like home. As for the House he will be in, the Sorting Hat will decide for him. Mr. Dmitry Rothmund, if you please come here."

Draco felt all eyes on him as he walked down the aisle leading to the staff table, before which Dumbledore was conjuring a stool and the Sorting Hat.

He halted before the stool, staring straight into the headmaster's eyes and ignoring the questioning looks of other teachers, although from the corner of his eyes he could catch a glimpse of Hagrid beaming at him and whispering to another teacher at his side.

Dumbledore nodded, signaling him to put the Sorting Hat on.

Draco did as being told. He took the tattered hat and turned around, facing the student body, before sitting down on the stool and put the hat on his head.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy…" the hat soon greeted him, luckily only for him to hear, before adding,

"Hmm… I've sorted you before, haven't I? Wonder why I must sort you again now? Ah, on a mission I see. Well, but my job is only to sort, isn't it? I have no say on any other matters, have I? Nevertheless, I sorted you in Slytherin when you were younger, but I see now you've changed quite much. Not as ambitious, nor as cunning as you were, I see; but remain as intelligent and noticeably more composed, and more mature of course. I think Ravenclaw would suit you better. What, no? Slytherin again? Are you sure? Well, then … if you insist…."

"SLYTHERIN!" This time the hat shouted loudly, soon followed by formerly reluctant, but then slowly but surely overwhelming applauses from the Slytherin table.

Draco stood up and put the Sorting Hat back on the stool, glancing at the headmaster, who nodded to him, before turning around and heading straight toward the table of his old House, where many familiar faces, including those who have long dead in the future, welcomed him unsuspectingly.

As he sat down between two male students offering a vacant seat between them, he glanced up at the table across, which happened to be the Gryffindor table, and found a pair of beautiful hazel eyes belonging to the girl that had been haunting his dreams for years staring at him probingly. Their eyes were locked for some time, her cheeks growing heated under his intense stare, until her red-head friend threw him a murderous glare and started bickering with her. She didn't look at him again afterward.

So Draco returned his attention to his table mates, impassively answering their questions.

As he started to eat, he realized he was very hungry, so he ate as much as he could, ignoring the continued questions and discouraging his table mates from inquiring him further as he refused to answer with full mouth and his coldness seemed enough to frighten many.

They didn't seem to mind the lack of response, although some looked at him suspiciously. Nothing extraordinary, though, as Slytherins were suspecting by nature.

It was amid this he heard a glass broken and shattered on the floor. He looked up to his left, and found two girls bickering with each other several students away. They soon faltered, stopped fighting and grew shy as they found him staring at them unabashedly. But, Draco did not stop staring as they returned to their meals, and continued to glance at him expectantly. He looked past them. He stared at someone sitting alone in the corner, playing the food with his fork, seeming to have no care with whatever happening around him as the boy seemed to be lost in his own world.

Finally feeling his stare, the person slowly lifted his platinum blond head up and turned it toward Draco's direction; a pair of grey eyes now stared back at him.

Draco was looking at his younger self.

* * *

**Author's Note**:

Hello, everybody! Geez, sorry for the almost two-month stall. I had had _so_ many stuff on my plate it was maddening (!) and had been quite uninspired with Harry Potter-related stories until I finally watched the 8th movie last week. Yeah, could only watch it last week because the movie importers in Indonesia (where I live) had a dispute with the tax office and so on, resulting in delayed release of the movie here.

Anyway, thanks a BUNCH for all of you who kindly spared your times to review the last chapter.

To my darling heartcorejasmin: thx again for the long review (still love it!) and the criticism regarding Draco's name. Well, to be honest I do feel a little uncomfortable with the name Dmitry, and have actually mulled about naming him Matthew instead. But, then I thought Matthew sounded too plain, and as I finally already published the story using Dmitry anyway, I don't think it's wise to change it, don't you think so? I did correct his background, tho; I realized I made a mistake there. If Rothmund was his surname, it should be his father, not mother, who was a German. I know it perhaps sounds too much to combine the Russian first name and German surname, but isn't there a possibility of mixed marriage between a Russian and a German? And, well, either Dmitry's German father or English mother could perhaps have a little Russian root in their family's history :D. Btw in which German city do you live? I spent a month in Hamburg and Berlin last year.

jera: and the feeling I got when I was notified of your review... you'll be killing me as well, if you stop reviewing :P

The-tall-girl-in-green : she sure did! a freak, weirdo. Lol...

4SnowWolf: Ah ya, those will be parts of the dilemma, which I must say are quite tricky to write. Quoting Draco, I only have a larger picture of how the story will go, but not the detail. I'll try my best though. Care to provide any inputs? :D

Gabrielle Dashwood : thanks, dear! You ROCK, too!

To everyone who read, and especially those who have put this story in your favorite and or alert lists, I hope you'll be more vocal about your views of the story. To be honest I've never completed a novel-length story, so I would _really_ appreciate your supports _especially_ in form of REVIEWS as they're really the best fuel -given the timeliness- to continue updating the chapters.

Sorry for the short 'filler' chapter, but I deem it necessary as a bridge to the next, more important parts of the story; which I will soon update IF I receive acceptable number of reviews.

Have a good day! Or good evening!


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER VIII

Draco pondered about what he was gonna do now that he had finally arrived in the past. Destroying the Horcruxes early was definitely not an option now after Dumbledore refused his hand over the matter.

Well, he could still try to do that on his own. He could perhaps leave the school sometimes to search for the Horcruxes and destroy them one by one. He could perhaps try to talk Potter into working on the Horcruxes together; for doing it alone -from what he had gathered from Weasley in the future- seemed quite impossible, despite his knowledge about their locations and how to destroy them. He might as well get killed before the mission was remotely accomplished. Potter would be surely easier to persuade than the unwavering, pigheaded headmaster. It would require some time, though, to approach the Boy-Who-This-Time-Still-Lived and make him trust Draco enough to do the Horcrux hunt together.

And Draco definitely needed to keep a watchful eye on his younger self. He would prevent the latter from unleashing the Death Eaters into Hogwarts; no need telling there. But where to start? That was a different matter. His younger self's first few attempts to kill Dumbledore had been all failures; did that mean he didn't need to do anything about them then? That he only needed to put himself in action right when those Death Eaters came out of the Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement? Sending them the Killing Curses from behind their backs sounded utterly satisfying. But perhaps it would be better if he just destroyed the Vanishing Cabinet from the beginning? No. That was not an option. He would most definitely endanger his younger self, and parents, if he did that. Voldemort would be enraged and no one needed to ask who would be the first victims of his rage.

And, lastly, about Hermione… What was he gonna do about her? His main mission here was to save her, to ensure she would remain alive. The plans to destroy the Horcruxes, to prevent the smuggling of the Death Eaters into Hogwarts were all aimed at that. But what would he do about her in the mean time? His finally seeing her again, after years of agonizing loss, had returned his craving for her in full force. In the future he had forgotten about how she had exactly looked like; he had only remembered that she had been beautiful, and how her smiles lit up his days. He had only remembered his love for her. But now that he finally saw her delicate figure again, felt her in his arms, things that had long dead within him sprang back to life; his desires, his needs to possess her, to claim her, to call her his own. The more he saw her, the stronger they were.

But, he knew he couldn't be reckless about this. He already scared the hell out of her with the mere innocent embrace, which kept bringing warmth to his heart every time he remembered it, remembering her scent, her softness… Anyway Dumbledore was right; he needed to be more careful with her.

Besides, if anything, it was his younger self that he had to match with Hermione, not himself. That was for the sake of their future -of his and his younger self's, and Hermione's- the future that he wished to change for the better, into the one he had always desired, where they would be together with no timelines, no death keeping them apart. If he acted recklessly as to trying to court her with the fake identity, the fake physique, he would be ruining that future instead.

Oh, how he wished he could just take her away to somewhere safe, ignoring all those responsible thoughts, those awareness, running away with her from the wizarding war in Britain to a faraway haven, perhaps in America or even China, where they could live peacefully together for the rest of their lives, where no one could harm her and she would be all for himself. After all, it had been 10 bloody years since he had last seen her. He just didn't feel like waiting any longer to have her. Her possible resistance over the matter could be handled later on.

But, what would be of his younger self then? He could not abandon him; there was no question there. For both of their future lay on the wellbeing of the latter. As simple as that. There would be no him without his younger self. If he left the latter to his own devices, amid the war-plagued wizarding Britain wherein his arrival in the past would most likely cause some changes -some of which might be even more undesirable than the original outcomes; there could be barely a chance for his younger self to survive. If his younger self vanished then he would vanish, too. And all his efforts to come here, all his no-doubt-would-be-hard-work to save Hermione, would be vain.

A sound of moaning and whimpering woke Draco up from his musing. He looked up slightly, and saw the occupant of the bed diagonally across from his restlessly turned left and right in his slumber. It looked like the person was having a nightmare.

There were seven beds in the dormitory, all of which were occupied by Slytherin's sixth-year males. Draco occupied the bed in the left row nearest to the window, which was enchanted, allowing a view of Hogwarts grounds and the Black Lake despite the room being in the dungeons.

Right next to him was Theodore Knott, who was sleeping peacefully. He had protested Draco's occupying the vacant lot next to the window, saying it was his and all. The boy immediately stopped his rant, though, shortly after Draco told him to shut up. Apparently the young Knott was already rather intimidated by his presence alone; the brief impassive reply was enough to make him indeed keep that mouth shut.

Loud snoring was heard from the next bed, occupied by Goyle, or maybe Crabbe. Really, it was annoying, nevertheless all other occupants of the room were sleeping peacefully. All but him, and his younger self. The moaning and whimpering sounds came from the latter.

Draco slowly rose, detaching his blanket and soundlessly leaving his bed, walking toward the other bed where his younger self was lying. He had seen him entering the dark room way past midnight, when all of their room mates had long been asleep. Draco had given no signs that he had been awake. He had watched his younger self walking limply straight toward his bed, dumping himself there, and saw no movements afterward. The boy must have been dead tired he had immediately fallen asleep as soon as he had touched the bed. Draco remembered, at these times, the younger him had been busy examining the condition of the Vanishing Cabinet, trying to see what had been wrong and what he could have done about it.

Draco stopped at the foot of the bed. There he stood still, silently watching the distressed, restless and frightened look on the face of his younger self as the boy kept turning around, right and left, in his sleep. He moaned and whimpered, sometimes mumbling incoherent words or muttering a cry. His breathing was heavy and ragged. His forehead and neck were sweaty, his dampen white shirt was clung to his skin because of the sweats. The boy hadn't bothered to change into pajamas, still wearing his school uniform. He also hadn't bothered to cover himself with a blanket.

Draco remembered, he had used to have a lot of nightmares at these times, laden with the mission to kill Dumbledore and smuggle the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, and was dreadfully fear for his parents' and his own safety.

He continued to stand at the foot of the bed, staring absentmindedly at his younger self for he didn't know how long until the bells at the clock tower rang five times. It was already five in the morning. Draco decided against sleeping at all.

* * *

Draco was the first to arrive in the classroom for the first subject of the day: Potions. He had gone to shower early, and headed for breakfast early. Feeling no mood to engage in any conversations with anyone, he left the Great Hall before the majority of the students filled in. He then went straight to the Potions classroom, which was practically empty but for him now.

Draco chose to sit in a back corner of the room; a quite perfect place to evade attentions. He had decided to avoid attentions as best as he could, for they could jeopardize his mission. And he already drew too many attentions with his sudden, quite uncommon arrival at the school. Now he also regretted not waiting longer for a boy with more plain features when he had collected the 'substance' -as Blaise had put it- for the Polyjuice Potions. His new appearance apparently drew girls like a magnet and, contrary to what Blaise had suggested and Draco had previously agreed with, wouldn't seem to help his mission at all. Luckily, so far his cold and rude demeanor seemed to discourage those teenage girls from coming anywhere near.

Having no other things to do (formulating plans for the mission surely needed more times and privacy), Draco took a quill, an ink bottle, a few parchments and an _Advanced Potion Making_ textbook out of his satchel as he put it on the floor beside his stool. He dumped the other items on his desk. Hagrid had accompanied him to the Diagon Alley the day before, and Draco used the opportunity to buy supplements for his study, and some other needs. After all he had barely brought anything from the future to support his façade life here, only some items he considered critical to his mission. Dumbledore had repeated his offer to pay for him the supplements through the half-giant, but Draco again politely rejected it. Although he barely brought other stuff, he certainly brought enough money to feed the whole school for 10 years -if he wanted to- in his pocket. He thought it could probably come in handy for his mission.

He now lazily flipped over the pages of the textbook as he waited for the class room to fill in, scanning languidly the content, refreshing his memory of what they were gonna study for the rest of the year. Not that he really cared; he was only passing times.

It wasn't long, however, before other students began to fill in the room. The first batch arriving wore Gryffindor red. The Slytherins were sharing this year's Potions class with the Gryffindors, which made him anticipate this class. He couldn't wait to see Hermione, having not seen her all day yesterday.

She finally entered the classroom after it was half-filled, with her two best friends in tow. Her rich brown curls fell perfectly on her shoulders and upper back, looking soft and at the same time voluminous, following the movements of her head as she was laughing, sharing jokes with her friends. Her cheeks were rosy, probably freshened by morning shower; her eyes sparkled with mirth, showing the happy state she was in. She had a perfect set of white pearl teeth now, no longer bucktoothed as when she had been younger. Her deep red lips made her overall coloring simply captivating.

Draco couldn't take his eyes off her, despite his earlier reminding himself to be more careful around her. He watched her each and every movement like hawk, until she was perfectly seated at the front of the class, with her back facing him. She spread her parchments and all other items on her desk, readying herself for the class.

Perhaps finally feeling his stare, she turned around, looking for the culprit until her eyes landed on him.

Instead of diverting his stare elsewhere, Draco looked back at her nonchalantly, wasn't able to look away even if he wanted to; as if someone hypnotized him. He impassively watched for her reaction, which quickly changed from surprised to confused, and then shy (she was blushing) and lastly apprehensive. That was when she turned around again, determinedly facing the chalk board to avoid his penetrating gaze; her back went stiff.

A movement to his left made Draco finally wring his eyes off her. He turned his head toward the direction, and found his younger self, sitting a few seats away, looking slowly between him and Hermione. The boy's gaze was contemplative. Their eyes -his and his younger self's- were locked for a moment, before that contemplative look changed into a blank one. Draco wasn't sure what it meant. As far as he remembered, his 16-year-old self shouldn't have recognized his feelings for Hermione; again too laden with the ill mission he had barely given her any thoughts. He had only realized he had strong feelings for her after she had been tortured by his Aunt Bellatrix at his manor home.

The bell indicating the start of the class then rang, his younger self blinked, ending their staring contest. The boy diverted his attention to the entering Professor Slughorn, who cheerfully greeted the class and soon began the subject of the day.

But, Draco barely paid the lesson any heeds. He was now focusing his attention on his younger self, who seemed to barely listen to what the professor said, lost in his own world and was completely unaware of Draco's continued stare.

* * *

Draco couldn't help it. He _needed _to be around Hermione, talking to her, whatever, as long as she was around. He was _this _close to her after those years along which death had kept them apart. It was only normal he wanted to make the most out of his visit here, to the past, where she was still alive, by enjoying her company.

He had decided to try to befriend her. Not wooing, only befriending. Yes, that was an excellent idea. Besides, how else should he play a matchmaker for her and his younger self if he wasn't close enough to either of them? Yeah, he would surely also try to approach his younger self, although strangely he didn't quite welcome the idea, despite it was being himself. The boy was difficult (well, Draco admitted he had never been an easy-to-deal-with person), but in this ... trying year he became even more impossibly difficult, effectively sending people, including his closest friends, away.

Draco's attempts to approach Hermione, however, to engage her in some talks at the least, had been futile so far. She had obviously been avoiding him, always turning another way every time they were about to cross path, and had been completely ignoring him, seeming unaffected by his intense stares although he knew she squirmed under those (yes, he still couldn't stop staring, all right?). She had been hardly in the library, where Draco was hoping to find her alone, maybe because she had once caught him coming her way, after which she quickly put all her stuff into her bag and practically ran away toward the exit. That time he had decided it would freak her out even more if he had chased her, so he had only stand, watching her disappearing from sight.

And her friends… they did not help the matter. They were too overly protective of her. Weasley still always turned red, sending him threatening looks or murderous glares, or both, every time he saw him, even more so when he caught Draco looking at her. Potter, meanwhile, although having not been there during the 'lake scene', had obviously been informed of the incident he kept sending Draco suspecting looks.

It was thus his lucky day when, on the second weekend upon his re-arrival at Hogwarts, he accidentally bumped into her on a deserted corridor near Myrtle's bathroom.

He had been wandering around the area for the past few days, planning to explore the Chamber of Secrets to collect some Basilisk fangs. Yes, he had decided to start his attempts to destroy the remaining Horcruxes by securing the destruction tools. Considering that it was almost impossible to borrow the Gryffindor's Sword from Dumbledore, he then settled on the fangs; after all they were equally effective, based on Weasley's explanation back then in the future.

Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to enter the bathroom because his younger self had always been there first. He had been waiting for him to come out for hours for three straight days, but always ended up leaving upset because the boy just wouldn't come out. _That_ reminded him of where he had spent most of his days during these times, if not lurking around the Room of Requirement or formulating plans to kill Dumbledore. Grumpily, he now remembered how Myrtle had been his only 'friend' during this period.

It was the fourth day he tried to access the bathroom. Draco had heard that his younger self should be serving two hours of detention with Filch, who had apparently caught him lurking around the seventh floor corridor past curfew a few nights ago. So Draco had checked on it himself, and saw his younger self cleaning the Trophy Room without his wand; so he quickly walked all the way up to the second floor and was turning around a corner when … Bam! He bumped harshly into Hermione.

At first he didn't know who it was, and wasn't fast enough to catch her that she toppled on the floor, her books scattered on the floor.

As soon as he came out of the shock (he hardly wavered, naturally), however, he looked down and saw that it was her, and immediately dropped on his knees, catching her arms softly and carefully helping her to stand, after which he drew out his wand and muttered a spell quickly gathering all the books into a pile and putting all other items back into her bag. He took the pile and handed them out to her, as she took the bag and attached the rope on her shoulder.

She said 'thank you' as she looked up, and quickly frowned as she saw it was him. Her expression, unsurprisingly, quickly turned apprehensive, after which she abruptly snatched the books out of his hands and attempted to run past him, but failed as he was quick to grab hold of her arm.

"Please… let me explain."

His tone was pleading, and he sounded earnest and apologetic, but that was not enough to weaken her struggle to get free. She was too scared of the boy who had rather dark, mysterious air about him; not to mention his rather strange ... obsession with her.

"Let… Go. Of. Me!" she gritted her teeth, harshly pulling her arm, although it hurt a little and was a futile attempt as he had a dead grip on said arm. The books that had been gathered in her other arm were now again sent scattered on the floor.

"Just let me speak! I promise I wouldn't come anywhere near you, if you still can't accept my explanation after that," he pleaded again, with a more urgent tone in his voice.

It was then that Hermione looked up, and was surprised by the sincerity in his yes, which made her slowly but surely end her struggle.

"Let go of me then. I will listen. But you also have to keep your promise," she said after she calmed down.

He nodded, although having no intention to keep his words. "I promise," he said, releasing her arm.

She sighed, and signaled him to start, which he found quite difficult as he was once again enthralled with her loveliness; her perfect oval face, expressive eyes, soft alabaster skin and those .. tantalizing lips. After all it was the first time he looked at her from this closeness. Nevertheless, Draco managed to quickly wake up from the daze before he could freak her out again.

"I'm sorry," he said. "For what I did at the lake."

She was blushing a little in remembrance of the incident, but managed to keep her face straight, urging him to continue.

"I… I was overwhelmed. You … you look very much like someone I really care about, and I'm sorry, I knew you couldn't be her, but I just… couldn't help," he stuttered a little, but that was part of the act. Yes, he had prepared the lie, for he didn't know what else he should explain to her to redeem himself and stopped her from being scared of him.

"You mean your… She was your…"

"My sister," he nodded, immediately prompting a change on her expression. She had seemed to expect another answer. Girlfriend, or a fiancée perhaps. He smirked inwardly; his strong, too-smart-for-her-own-good girl was still a girl after all, weak to that kind of stories.

"Oh. And I reckon you haven't seen her … for quite some time?"

"She died two months ago; in the same plane crash that killed both of our parents."

She closed her mouth in shock, and every trace of suspicion immediately disappeared from her face, which now looked horrified and, finally, sympathetic.

"I… I'm sorry. I have no idea…" she awkwardly stretched her arm, patting his shoulder, but quickly drew it back as if it caught fire as she realized what she was doing.

"That's okay," he said, giving her an encouraging smile.

She was then lost in her own thoughts, seemingly troubled with the 'tragic' story of his life. But, Draco immediately decided to bring her back into reality.

"So… would you forgive me?"

She stared up at him again, contemplating the expectant look on his face. As she did that Draco felt himself lost in the warm, honey-colored puddles that were her beautiful eyes.

Another blush crept her cheeks as she became aware of the intensity of his stare, although now she knew he had only been watching her because she looked like his deceased sister.

She nodded then, smiling sympathetically.

"Yes, I forgive you," she said, only able to look briefly into the amber eyes of the tall boy whom she had been aware was a handsome person.

"Can we be friends now?" He offered her his hand.

She seemed unsure, laughing nervously as she stared at the stretched hand, "Are you sure? This is, after all, the first time a Slytherin asks me to befriend them."

He shrugged, "There's always first time for everything, Hermione," he replied smiling, patiently holding out his hand until she finally, although still unsurely, took and shook it.

"Well… okay then, Dmitry... It's your name, isn't it?"

He nodded, his smile becoming more solid for he inwardly rejoiced her acceptance of his friendship offer. He couldn't help but holding her soft, delicate hand longer than necessary, prompting her blush to slowly come back.

It was then that he forced himself to release her, didn't want to scare her again.

* * *

**Author's note:**

Thank you, everyone, for following this story, and especially to tacker23 and Arodwen (so I guess you've got a little picture now of what the elder Draco would do to his younger self?); LaFayette (thanks for the double reviews, you rock!); and, last but not least, to dearest jera.

Don't forget to kindly review this chapter! :)


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER IX

Most of the students went to their first Hogsmeade trip this weekend, and Draco knew his younger self did, too. It was naturally impossible for Draco to remember everything he had done while carrying out Voldemort's order in this era, let alone the exact timelines of those … 'extra-school' activities, but he would always remember that he had Imperioed that Bell girl to bring the cursed necklace to Dumbledore during the first Hogsmeade weekend.

He knew his younger self had been busy making final preparations for the attack since the previous evening. He knew the boy had barely slept last night, and left his bed very early in the morning to execute the plan. So, Draco knew, the coast was clear; Myrtle's bathroom was free for him to roam.

He stunned Myrtle before she could even see him (wouldn't want the annoyingly too chatty ghost to give him away, would he?) and had, after muttering a number of incantations in replacement of the Parseltongue order, finally managed to open the Chamber of Secrets.

He slid into the dark tunnel, and landed harshly on piles of bones of what seemed to be once small mammals. Unpleasant, although rather vague smells of decays, rats' dung and damp lichens immediately invaded his nostrils, and sounds of running and screeching rats intruded his ears.

He saw the mouth of a bigger tunnel to his left, and immediately rose and walked toward and then through it. He met debris of collapsed walls and ceilings as he came out of the other end of the tunnel.

He chanted a spell to clear his path, and then saw a partly-opened hole across the room, which seemed to lead to another room. He stepped through the hole, and was now standing inside a huge, well-lit chamber in the middle of which two lines of giant head snake statues stood menacingly. The lines were divided by a wide, damp path that led to a bigger statue of what looked like a man's head attached on the wall.

He saw the decaying carcass of the basilisk lying abandoned in front of the statue.

It would have been dead silent in the chamber, if not for the echoing sound of water drops that regularly tickled the floor somewhere in a dark corner. And, soon, the almost dead chamber sprang to live as the sounds of Draco's firm footsteps as he walked steadily toward the carcass echoed across the hall.

He drew to a halt just a few feet away from the basilisk's monstrous head, simply staring it for a moment before scanning quickly the rest of the wrinkled, almost dried rotten mass of the giant snake, ignoring the stronger unpleasant smell of decay lingering in the air as he had come closer to the carcass.

Draco then retrieved from his pocket a magically expandable small bag, from inside of which he took a pair of dragon-hide gloves and a small, also expandable steel container.

He put the gloves on his hands before slowly lowering himself on the floor, placing the steel container near his foot, and then focusing his attention on the partly-opened jaws of the basilisk. He reached out with his hands, carefully protruding the jaws and the nearest fangs before deciding it was safe to go on with his plan. He picked a fang, holding the tip with his left hand, and aimed his wand at the base of the fang with the other hand. He muttered slowly the severing charm, carefully aimed it to one spot after the other and so on until the fang was removed and easily collapsed into his hand. He then quickly cast the freezing charm at both the fang and the ripped gum of the basilisk to prevent the venom from spurting and leaking unnecessarily. After that he enlarged the steel container, and carefully put the fang inside of it, attaching the thing to the base to prevent it from moving around after he sealed back the container, which he immediately did. He then stood up, moving away from the carcass, casting the Scourgify spell at his gloves, the container, the bag and all over himself before he took off the gloves and placed them and the steel container back inside the bag, which he secured once again inside his pocket.

Mission 1: accomplished. Draco allowed himself a little smile.

* * *

The Entrance Hall was filled with ruckus as Draco arrived. He had intended to head straight to the Great Hall to grab a lunch after his … small trip to the Chamber of Secrets; what with the trip made him famished. But, well, it wouldn't be wise to carry around a dangerous item such as a basilisk fang inside one's pocket, would it? So he had decided to drop by at the Slytherin dungeons before heading to the hall. He had put the fang inside his heavily-warded luggage.

Due to the ruckus, however, it looked like he had to suffer another delay for his lunch. The whispering and murmuring crowd gathering in the Entrance Hall practically blocked his way to the Great Hall. At first he wasn't aware what it was all about, but then as the crowd parted, he saw a half-giant by the name of Hagrid emerging, making his way through the crowd from outside, carrying in his arms an unconscious girl with long dark hair, and who was wrapped in a red coat. It was that Katie Bell girl. Yes, Draco almost forgot; this was right the time when the girl, supposed to deliver the necklace to Dumbledore, touched it and got cursed instead. Draco stayed rooted at the sight, watching silently from behind the crowd until Hagrid and the girl disappeared behind a corner heading to the Infirmary. He then waited for the crowd to disperse to allow him an access to the Great Hall.

He met the Golden Trio halfway. The Boy-Who-Lived and Weasley were too occupied to notice his presence, arguing heatedly no doubt about the Bell incident. But, Hermione… she happened to look up when he caught the sight of her. She looked troubled, and then a little bit perplexed when she saw him, but offered him a little weary smile in the end, which he replied with delight. They said nothing to each other, though. He allowed her to walk past him before he continued his interrupted trip to the Great Hall.

Draco headed straight to the Slytherin table, quickly indulging the meal presented before him, dismissing thoughts on what he had just seen. He sensed the troubled looks on the faces of the rest of the Great Hall occupants, and heard their anxious talks about what had just happened. But he ignored those, tuning out the voices. Well, what would he need to worry about anyway? He remembered clearly that the Bell girl had recovered quickly after being admitted to St. Mungo, and returned to school not long after the Christmas break. She would be okay.

But, Draco did look up when a platinum blond boy approached the table. Their eyes -for the umpteenth time- were momentarily locked before the boy quickly, and none too subtly at that, averted his gaze elsewhere; his posture went rigid and he too obviously avoided meeting Draco's eyes once more, picking a space far from him at another end of the long table. Maybe his younger self could catch the knowing look in Draco's eyes, or maybe the boy was just being paranoid; dead scared of getting caught after what he had done that had unintentionally hurt that Bell girl. The boy should find it hard to swallow any food right now, but Draco knew he was here to keep up appearances. It surely wouldn't do if he separated from others after what he had just done; that would most likely raise suspicions. Whichever, it looked like his younger self suspected that he knew. And, somehow, Draco didn't feel like hiding the fact, so he kept absentmindedly watching his blond, younger version as he continued his interrupted lunch. Maybe the boy finally had had enough, because just now he looked up and met Draco's eyes challengingly, sending him an angry, menacing glare filled with hostility.

* * *

It was later in the evening that Draco found Hermione in the library. He came there in a hope to find her, although hadn't exactly expected he would. Nevertheless, there she was, sitting alone at a table in a secluded corner, surrounding herself with piles of books and intently reading one.

After that eventful day when Hermione had accepted his offer of friendship, Draco hadn't had a chance to engage her in any talks. They had walked past each other, throwing each other smiles several times, but it had never been more than that. Potter and Weasley had seemed to be always glued to her side. Not that Draco was intimidated with either of the teenage boys, he only didn't feel comfortable talking with her while they were around, or while she was with anyone at that. He wanted his moments with her to be private.

Draco had been standing on the same spot behind a book shelf for some time now. He didn't immediately make himself seen, choosing instead to watch her silently from behind the shelf, raking his eyes slowly, appreciatively over her petite, slim figure, over the delicate contour of her face. And for some time he was captivated with the way she unconsciously bit her lips, making them look even redder and more ... tempting.

He woke up from his daze when she noisily turned another page of the book. That was when he decided to straigthen his back, and leave his hiding place to come and greet her.

"Hi. May I seat here?" he said as he arrived across her table, waiting for her to respond.

She was started and looked up, apparently had been to absorbed in the book she hadn't heard his footsteps. She smiled when she saw him, which he yet again replied with delight. He could get used to this smiling stuff. It was indeed weird, how her mere presence, her mere acceptance of him as a … friend (only for now; he promised), could bring smiles to his face, betraying his otherwise cold and aloof demeanor. He had basically forgotten how to smile for years, since Voldemort had ordered him the mission his younger self was currently doing. But, now, seeing those mirth in her eyes, the sweet smiles she had been sending his way several times so far... He couldn't help but feeling that surge of happiness and warmth filling his heart, slowly but surely bringing it back to life. He didn't remember ever smiling like this, even before those dark years removed all traces of happiness from his face. He remembered he had smirked, sneered and laughed at others' expenses a lot while he had been younger. But, the smile that was now gracing his face … it was new; and only her had seen. He was genuinely happy, only by being in her welcoming company, which made him feel as if everything would end up all right despite hard and dark days ahead.

"Oh, Dmitry, you surprised me," she said, indeed looking surprised as she almost dropped the book in her hands. "Please, do take a seat."

He smiled and drew the seat, lowering himself there.

"What are you reading?" He tried to initiate a conversation.

"This," she said, showing him the title of the book instead of answering. It read _Magical Objects and Their Purposes_.

"I reckon it has something to do with today's incident? They said the girl touched a cursed necklace."

"Yes," her smile immediately faltered, and she looked troubled once again.

Draco hated to touch the subject that removed the smile from her face, but he thought it was only normal that he brought up the issue. He was playing a new student after all, and new students were supposed to be curious about things happening in their new schools, especially if those things were quite unusual, such as a student being attacked by a cursed necklace.

"Have you found anything?" He decided to continue playing the ignorant new student part.

"No, I guess it isn't a special magical object; just an ordinary, expensive necklace someone had cast a curse upon."

He nodded. "Have any idea who might be responsible for that?"

Hermione seemed reluctant at first. She barely knew him after all, couldn't decide if he was a safe person to share these sort of stuff with. Nevertheless, after a moment, she decided to answer him, though she carefully picked her words.

"Actually, no," she said. "Katie -that's the girl's name- got the necklace from Hogsmeade, so it could be anyone. At times like this, it might as well be some Death Eaters. After all the necklace was aimed at Professor Dumbledore, so it's very likely a Death Eater's work."

He thought for a second or two before deciding to reply, "Well, better a Death Eater than some evil student. Imagine if it's the latter; he'd be able to work freely, unnoticed by anyone because… well, he's supposed to be just an innocent student."

Her eyes widened at this, and she seemed to want to say something else, although again quite reluctant at that, so he urged her to speak,

"Please, go on…"

"No, it's just that… Do you know Draco Malfoy? He's your Slytherin classmate."

He nodded.

"Well, Harry seems to really believe it must have been Malfoy. He has been trying to convince us that Malfoy is a Death Eater."

"And, what about you? You also think so?"

"I… I don't know. Malfoy has never been a… pleasant person. But, I don't think he would go that far into being a Death Eater and … trying to kill someone. After all, it's Harry we're talking about here. He… uhm… he always suspects Malfoy of evil doings. The thing is Harry has no single evidence that could support his accusation on Malfoy; at least not in this."

Draco smiled inwardly, pleased with Hermione's defending of his younger self, although she was sorely mistaken this time. Nevertheless, he was in an even better mood now (he was already in good mood since they had started talking), and decided to change the topic of the conversation into something … lighter. He also decided to let that suspicion on his younger self linger; he might as well need her help to fail the boy's ill mission, or perhaps her knowledge of the burden that his younger self was carrying could help her understand him better, thus make Draco's matchmaking job a little easier. To be honest, he really hadn't found any idea where to start on that. After all he had never before played a matchmaker, to anyone.

"From the sound of it, this Harry Potter friend of yours doesn't seem to be a good friend with Malfoy?" he decided to just settle on this topic, for now.

"A good friend?" she immediately laughed, and he enjoyed his musical laughter. She soon stopped laughing, though, as she noticed that intense look he was giving her again. And she immediately looked embarrassed.

"Oh, I… I'm sorry. I wasn't mocking you. Well, I didn't mean to," she stuttered. "You're a new student, so you wouldn't understand, but indeed you've just inspired in my head this funny mental picture of Harry being … good friends with Malfoy. And that looks downright ridiculous, and impossible," she seemed to try to suppress another coming wave of laughter.

"Enlighten me?" He smiled amusedly, enjoying her opening up to him and at the same time her lingering nervous, shy gestures.

"Well, for one they've been arch enemies since day one. Not merely because of the Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry, but it was actually since Harry rejected Malfoy's offer of friendship. Yes… I guess they wouldn't have been so hostile to each other if only Harry hadn't rejected that offer. But, it's not like I can blame him either. Malfoy insulted Ron right in front of him that day, and Harry never liked those kind of condescending attitudes from anyone."

"And let me guess, since you're best friends with Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, you're naturally Malfoy's arch enemy too?"

She seemed to consider the answer for a second, before replying, "Sort of … I guess."

He raised an eyebrow, so she continued, "Malfoy isn't as hostile to me as to Harry or Ron. Actually, I think he only is to me when provoked. Perhaps because I'm a girl. Anyway, I think I'm only an enemy, not an arch one," she shrugged.

"Besides, it's not wise, isn't it, to make the brightest witch of one's age their arch enemy?" He teased, which immediately prompted blush on her cheeks.

"Where did you even hear that rubbish?" she laughed.

"I'm a good listener, and from what I've gathered I don't think it's rubbish at all," he said, which made her blush even deeper.

He realized she didn't feel comfortable with the … flirtatious compliment. She immediately tried to change the topic, but was evidently not very good at it.

"You do don't seem to talk much. Are you always like this or is it because- …" she stopped her speech, immediately looking horrified, must be realizing she just touched a supposed-to-be-sensitive subject, that was if he really were a boy who had just lost his whole family in a plane crash.

As he was not, he chuckled inwardly, although managed to attach an understanding, encouraging smile on his face instead.

"I've always been like this," he shrugged.

"The difference is now I have more reason to stay like this," he decided to add after a short pause.

The girl in front of him seemed to be at a loss for words. He knew, she was very much affected with his supposedly tragic life story, although she barely knew him, let alone his imaginary dead family. Well, she had always been an empathic person, he knew her that much. In fact it was one of the things he loved about her. So, indeed, Draco didn't feel comfortable with his lies, not when they affected the girl he loved like this. But, he had no choice; he had to maintain the façade. And he needed to sound convincing, too, at that.

"It's okay, really," so he continued. "Actually, contrary to what most people seem to believe, sometimes I think I need someone to speak those sort of stuff with. You know, just to get them off my chest. But, well, most people treat me as if I were some kind of a fragile object, which could break down into pieces anytime someone reminds me ... of the loss. So, while that's not the case, I've been left alone, with my own devices, to cope with the loss," he finally settled on that little psychological speech. Aloof or not, Draco had always been a good liar. Those lies came out from his mouth almost naturally.

"Oh, Dmitry, I'm really sorry… Look, I'll be there for you if you need me. You can talk to me about … what happened to your family, if you want to. In fact, you can talk to me about everything you want. I'll be there for you," she stretched her arm across the table, subconsciously put her small hand over his large one and squeezed it a little in a sympathetic gesture.

He almost lost it there. It took quite self-control of him to fight the urges to grab that soft, small hand of her and trap it within his long, callous fingers, to bring it to his mouth and kiss the knuckles one by one. Anyway, he managed to force himself to continue the conversation, ignoring her soft touch and letting her draw her hand back.

"Thank you, I really appreciate it," he said.

Later that night as he was lying alone on his bed in the dorm room, a small smile kept tugging on a corner of his lips as he recalled the rest of the conversation he had had with Hermione. He had briefed her a little about his fake family history and imaginary past in Germany. Luckily in the future he had visited the country quite frequently, to take care of some businness affairs of his companies. So he wasn't completely clueless about the situation there, not to mention he was quite fluent in German again due to business demands. And, well, he should really thank Blaise for suggesting him the façade story. Yes, it was the future Blaise, but, well… since he was now nowhere around, perhaps he could deliver the gratitude through the younger version of his best friend. He looked up slightly toward a bed next to where his blond, younger version was lying, and smiled at the sight of the dark-skinned boy sleeping tight and snoring a bit.

Back to Hermione, she had seemed genuinely interested in whatever lies he had told her. He could see the wheels spinning in her head, could see her itch to attack him with questions regarding his foreign background and past life. Yes, he could see it clearly, and was now smiling fondly in remembrance of that overly curious look on her face. But, she had hold back. She had been really careful with her words and questions, which was good. Despite his previous 'psychological' speech, Draco was not sure if he could be consistent with all his lies, that is if she had indeed attacked him with those dozens of questions she had been dying to ask.

Eventually he made her talk more about herself than ask him questions. He made her talk about her family, her interests, favorite books and so on, by simply telling her he wasn't much of a talker. Aside of the fact it was wiser not to talk too much of oneself in these kind of circumstances, he had truthfully long stopped being a talker, choosing most to keep his thoughts on his own unless he considered it necessary to share them with others. And truer was that he loved listening to her soft voice, her musical laughter. He loved watching the sparkles in her big expressive eyes as she laughed, loved watching her face turn upset, sad, happy or angry in a relatively short amount of time, depending on what she was talking about. He loved watching her lips move, her tongue sometimes wet those glistening lips as she kept talking, blissfully unaware of his attention on those lips, and on her perfect brows, her long eyelashes, her cute button nose, rosy cheeks and almost everything of her but the content of her speech. That was for the most part. He did listen to some parts of her speech, genuinely interested in what she said, and commenting here and there to make it sound as if he was really listening all along. Luckily, he knew just when to listen and when to tune out; he was good like that in those sort stuff.

Slowly but surely, Draco's consciousness began to slip away. Not long after that he was entering the land of the wandering sleeping souls, and experienced for the first time after years a beautiful dream, where she stayed alive, safe and was happy at his side; a truly beautiful dream that didn't end up changing into a nightmare.

* * *

**Author's note**: Sincerely thank everyone who've been following this story, and especially those who have been kind enough to spare some of their precious times to review. I _love_ reading your reviews, love to learn of what you think on the story, on the chapters. So, please review! :)

The special thanks goes to reviewers of the last chapter: tacker23, L and misa for eternity, LaFayette, HPAsherra (oh yes, we shall wait and see! ;) ), and Alkeni.

P.S.: To dearest readers of Matchmaking My Brother; I really don't mean to abandon the story, but have been having quite a writer's bloc for that story for some time now, especially because I've been barely in light mood over the past few months, while the story is supposed to be light and cheerful. I've found it difficult to write cheerful stories when in gloomy mood :(


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER X

"Would you _just_ quit it, Ronald? It's not what you think it is. There's _nothing_ going on between me and him!" Hermione stopped on her track, turning around abruptly as she lashed out at her tall, gangly red-headed best friend, who unfortunately wasn't intimidated at all by her glare, apparently feeling he had power over her due to his height.

"No, I won't! Yes, something _is_ going on!" He replied stubbornly.

"How many times should I tell you there _isn't._ Dmitry and I... we're just friends," she sighed exasperatedly, and decided to continue her interrupted trip across the Hogwarts ground, toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures class would be held.

She tried to ignore Ron, who kept pestering her about her non-existent relationship with Dmitry. That had happened since the red head had seen her exchanging smiles with the new boy in the Great Hall a few days ago. And, somehow, after that Ron managed to gather 'reports' that she and Dmitry had often been seen talking "intimately" in the library. Intimately? _Right_. And "often"? Honestly, since when had a few times been considered "often"?

Merlin, she would be dead embarrassed if Dmitry heard any of this. He wasn't interested in her like that at all. And they only recently became friends; she didn't want him to get any wrong ideas. She had begun to enjoy his company, and didn't want the situation between them to become uncomfortable because of Ron's silly accusation.

Besides, it was … well, it was Ron that she … well, liked. And she thought she had been giving the red head more than some little hints regarding her more-than-friendly feelings for him. She had always been helping him with his homework, patiently dealing with his rants and whines, and fully supporting his Quidditch bid, although honestly she didn't think he was that good in Quidditch. In fact, she just recently helped Ron secure the Keeper post by Confunding Cormac during the last Quidditch tryout, which she couldn't tell anyone about, including Ron himself, unfortunately.

Anyway, in short she had been paying Ron her utmost attention in general. Why couldn't Ron see that? And now he was accusing her of liking someone else? Hermione really felt like bursting. She wanted to yell out at him, telling him all the truth about her feelings for him. But, what if he didn't feel the same? She did not want to humiliate herself, what if he liked someone else? Not to mention it could become awkward between them after that.

At present, a part of her actually rejoiced Ron's accusing rants. She wishfully hoped they came out of jealousy, which meant that probably Ron also had feelings for her. But, another part, which was more dominant, said it was just his jealous and possessive streak, as he had displayed when Victor Krum had asked her to the Yule Ball in fourth year or when Harry had been picked up to enter the Triwizard Tournament. It had nothing to do with him feeling the same about her.

So, if anything, Hermione felt frustrated with this yet another "fraternizing with the enemy" accusation. She wished Ron could be a little more cool-headed and reasonable. Just because Dmitry was a Slytherin it didn't mean he was automatically an enemy; a snake who was slithering in stealth, ready to attack them anytime they put their guard down.

And she hated Harry for doing nothing to try to calm down their best friend. Although, she couldn't blame Harry much. He had too many stuff on his plate already, such as obsessively following Malfoy around, Hermione added this one sarcastically, as just now she caught the sight of Harry carefully walking behind Malfoy and his cronies some distance ahead, pretending to talk with Seamus and Dean, while he was probably only trying to eavesdrop whatever it was Malfoy might be talking about with the other Slytherins.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry could be quite thick-headed sometimes. It's not like Malfoy would openly talk about his supposedly secret, evil mission within the proximity of other students. And from what she saw from here, the blond didn't even seem like he was speaking at all. He seemed to be his usual silent person, as he had lately -and quite strangely at that- become.

"Oh, so it's Dmitry now, is it?" Ron easily caught up with her with his annoyingly long strides, continuing his verbal attack. "I bet he's the one you're gonna _ask_ to come to Slughorns' party."

Hermione gritted her teeth; there he raised the issue again. She knew how jealous he was for not being invited to the Christmas party, while she, Harry and Ginny were. How was she supposed to tell him that she had planned to invite him to come with her? And now that he said that, she thought perhaps it was better to invite Dmitry instead; just out of spite for Ron.

"It's actually _none_ of your business as to whom I will attend the party with. But, since you make the suggestion, perhaps I should indeed ask Dmitry to come with me."

Ron, predictably, immediately took the bait. "_Hermione_, this is _stupid_! This is _very_ unlike you! He's a Slytherin! And the prick... well, he just suddenly appears _out_ of nowhere and no one have even heard about him before. You're supposed to think there's something fishy here, especially after his assault to you the other day! One thing for sure: he's a pervert! Hermione, I want you to stay away from -what's his name again?- ah yes, Rothmund, from now on!"

"_Who_ are you to tell me what I should and should not do? And haven't I told you he couldn't help it because he thought I looked like his sister? Dmitry just lost his entire family, Ronald! Couldn't you at least try to be a little bit nicer to him?"

"Sister my ass! _Hermione_, what makes you think he's not lying? How would you know if his story is true or not? He's a Slytherin, after all. _That_ should be enough warning to you; and here I thought you were smart!"

"Did you, Ronald Weasley, just _insinuate _that I am _stupid_?" She couldn't help but stopped dead at her track, and turned around so quickly he stepped back in surprise.

She must be menacing enough this time because, finally, his red-head best friend cringed and gulped down a non-existent lump in his throat. Well, an insult on her intellectuality had always been a sore spot for Hermione.

"Her... Hermione... That was not-"

"This. Talk. Ends. NOW! Don't you _DARE_ coming anywhere near me unless you have _learned_ to STOP telling me to stay away from _whomever_ I've chosen to befriend with!"

To her own surprise, Hermione made a run to the forest as soon as she ended her sentence, ignoring other students that looked at the scene weirdly as she left a stunned Ron alone. He resumed his walk only after Parvati and Lavender passed by and giggled at his gaping mouth and round eyes. His already reddish face turned impossibly redder as he embarrassedly followed the two girls to the forest.

Although his accusations were probably based solely on his selfish jealousy, Ron actually -and surprisingly at that- had some good points, which Hermione hated to admit. She realized indeed that Dmitry's sudden appearance at times like then could be quite suspicious. But … there was something about him that made her ignore the suspicion.

Perhaps it was the way he addressed her, or how he looked and smiled at her, or the way he talked and listened to her attentively. All in all she simply felt like he was sincere, like she would be safe around him, like he would never intentionally harm her. Yes, he was decidedly an introvert who didn't like talking much about himself. More than likely there were many things he hid from her, and from anyone else for that matter. But, wasn't it natural for someone who just lost their entire family to ... build some kind of walls around themselves? She wasn't sure, she had never lost people who really mattered to her. But, she imagined perhaps she would have also turned into someone like Dmitry, aloof and … solitary, if she had experienced what he had, though hopefully she would never have to. And, well, he could be simply a quiet person since the beginning, as he had told her.

Anyway, Hermione really couldn't decide if Dmitry was being truthful or not; he looked too void of emotions to read. She had indeed thought he could easily lie to her, to the rest of the student body, though she was not sure what he should be lying about. But, surely he couldn't fool Professor Dumbledore. And the headmaster had allowed him to stay and study in Hogwarts, despite the currently alarming situations in the wizarding world. Surely that meant he considered Dmitry trustworthy. And if there was anyone whose judgments Hermione trusted more than her own, it was Professor Dumbledore. So, simply put, she trusted Dmitry.

* * *

Hermione turned down her speed now that she realized she had arrived in a part of the wood that held no sights of other students. She frowned. She thought she had been running toward Harry and Seamus and Dean. Where were they?

She turned her head right and left, back and forth, and found that she was completely alone. Weird. She thought at least Ron and some other students should have been behind her right now. But, they were also nowhere in sight.

She stopped walking, and listened carefully, trying to catch sounds of other students. She smiled as she heard faint voices coming from her right, and was just making another run when suddenly she saw a blond figure, his back facing her, emerge from behind a tree in front of her.

Hermione made an abrupt stop, but tripped over emerging roots, and was now helpless to do anything but yelling at the blond boy to tell him to move away, which he did but unfortunately only to turn around to face her, right as she flew and smacked into him.

They landed with a thud; he on the harsh ground, cushioning her fall, and she on top of him. Her forehead clashed with his chin, and both yelped in pain. She instinctively touched the stung forehead with her hand, and used the other arm to lift herself up a little, giving a space between her body and the hard one underneath her, using what felt like a chiseled chest as a leverage. That was when she saw his face, so close to hers. She looked up as he looked down, and just then she realized she was staring at the pale face of none other than… Draco Malfoy! She immediately felt horrified, but then got confused as Malfoy stared at her with an unreadable expression, long enough for her to notice his hot breath on her face, feel his rapid heartbeat and smell faintly his expensive cologne. But, then the magic disappeared as the mean, icy cold glint in his oddly swirling grey eyes came back.

"Get. Off. Me. Mudblood!" He growled, and suddenly grabbed her painfully in the arms and threw her off him.

Hermione yelped for the second time, as now she landed harshly on the ground, with nothing to cushion her fall.

From the corner of her eyes, as she was recovering from her shock, she saw the Slytherin Prince rising quickly to his feet, and immediately she heard him lash out as she began attempting to rise up, too. She of course didn't expect Malfoy to lend her a hand; that would be too naïve of her.

"Stupid _Mudblood_!" He spat venomously, making Hermione look up and meet his menacing glare as he stared down at her, disgust evident on his face. She decided to ignore him and continued using her elbows to try to lift herself off the ground. Ugh, why couldn't she regain her balance as fast as him?

"Why even bother leaving your place, _Mudblood_? That is _exactly_ where you belong, you _filth!_ On the ground, with other filths and dirt! How _dare_ you even touched me and exposed me to your _sickening_ germs! Idiot _Mudblood_!"

His words, and the tone he used, uncommonly y stung. Hermione wanted to remind him that she didn't intentionally ran smack into him on purpose, but catching his current state -the mad glint in his eyes, the fierce sneering and his oddly scary expression; she didn't think it would be wise. Malfoy seriously looked like a mad person now. She wondered what possessed him. She didn't think it was merely because of her accidental toppling him to the ground.

So, Hermione decided to ignore his harsh words, and doubled her effort to rise up, which she found out now why it was so _damn_ difficult. Apparently, her feet got tangled with the roots, trapped in between them. Hermione groaned, and, using her hands, now tried to force the roots to untangle, but they didn't budge. For God's sake! Where was her wand? She needed her wand. She looked around, but it was nowhere to be seen. It must have fallen while she fell. She was forced to continue to listen to Malfoy's venomous rants as she frustratedly resumed her efforts to release her feet.

"LOOK at me when I speak to you, you worthless _MUDBLOOD_! Haven't your parents taught you any manners? Oh, my mistake, of course they don't. You're a _disgusting_ mudblood after all, surely your lowly muggle parents-"

"Stop right there, Malfoy!" a third voice, cold but loud, interfered just as Hermione was about to open her mouth to stop Malfoy from saying anything about her parents. She could accept harsh words directed at her, but she would _never_ let anyone belittle her beloved parents.

Both looked toward the source of the sound, and found the tall figure of Dmitry Rothmund standing menacingly near the opening. He was sending a cold glare toward the blond boy, even colder than that of the latter, who was now diverting his glare from Hermione to the dark-haired boy.

The two boys were locked in a staring contest, creating a dead, tense silence between them. Hermione anxiously looked back between the two tall Slytherins (she noticed now that Dmitry was two or three inches taller than Malfoy), and saw that while the blond grew more hostile each second and his clenched fists began to tremble in rage, Dmitry's expression was unchanged. He looked as cold and as calm as when he had first arrived, unaffected by the growing rage radiated by the blond. His hand, however, gripped tightly his wand, prepared for any attacks.

Hermione realized now that Malfoy's attention was elsewhere, she could return her focus on untangling the roots that held hostage her feet. She again tried to dislodge the knots with her hands, and at the same time using her leg muscles to forcibly pull her feet out of the tangles. She let out a whimper as a sharp root created an ugly, deep and long scratch on her otherwise unblemished right ankle. It bled.

The elder Draco heard her whimper, which drew his attention back to her, ending the staring contest with his younger self.

He saw that the blond was now looking calmly at Hermione, too, and decided it seemed to be okay that he left him for a while. So, Draco came up to her, dropping to a knee as he arrived at her side.

"Are you all right? What is it?" He asked, concerned, looking at the distressed look on his love's face.

Before she even replied, Draco found the answer himself, as, upon examining her condition, he found that at the end of her creamy white legs, her feet got tangled in between the roots.

"I'm fine. It's just … my feet; they're stuck," She gestured at the tangle.

He nodded, sensing her distressed tone as she sounded like she was about to cry. She in fact bit her lips that they became so red in an obvious effort to hold herself from crying. He inwardly cursed his younger self for letting their love in this situation and doing nothing about that; and on the contrary further adding to her distress with his stupid rants.

He softly put a hand around her uninjured ankle, while his other hand gripped the roots that trapped it, before easily jerking them off her foot. He gave a similar, more careful treatment to her injured foot and the roots that trapped it.

He heard her let out a sigh of relief, and looked up and saw that her beautiful face looked relief as well. He smiled at her, which she replied with a grateful smile.

"Thank you, Dmitry," she said, allowing him to take her hands as he helped her to stand.

"It's okay... You think you can walk?" He refused to let her go even now that she stood fully on her feet, testing them and showing him that she could walk normally without his help.

He cast 'Episky' at the scratch on her right ankle, and cast some others on scratches that he saw on her hands and legs, ignoring her plea that she could do it herself if only he helped her find her wand.

He found the wand, lying innocently behind her, upon healing her from all those outer injuries. He summoned the wand and handed it down to her, and noticed now a few leaves and twigs nesting on her messy curls and robe. He instinctively raised his hand and began brushing the things off her until she caught his wrist, pleading him to stop.

"Dmitry, I can do it myself," she said, half-whispering, avoiding his eyes and blushing furiously, which prompted his smile as he stared down at her, doing as she told.

It was then that his younger self reminded them of his presence, with loud applauses.

"Well, well, well… Look what we've got here; a Slytherin-Gryffindor couple! What a surprise!" the younger Slytherin mocked coldly.

"I must congratulate you, Rothmund. You're a new student, but has successfully initiated something new to the hundreds of years of history and traditions in Hogwarts; a coupling between a Slytherin pureblood and a Gryffindor mudblood! How _utterly_ romantic! Congratulations!"

The blond resumed clapping his hands, drawing Draco's full attention. He kept his left fingers around Hermione's upper arm, refusing to let go although she had pulled it in alarm over his younger self's insinuation. Stupid boy! Draco felt his anger at his younger self returning.

"Oops, my mistake! I forgot, Rothmund, that you are _not_ a pureblood, unfortunately. Rumor has it that you're _only_ a half-blood. Or is true? Ah yes, it _is_ true, what a pity… We could have made good friends. But, well I see now why you're stooping _that_ low into getting cozy with the _mudblood_. You must have met a _little_ difficulty aftering the pureblood ladies; surely they want better than some _tainted_ bloods! Well, indeed you have no other choice but to _fool_ around with the _mudblood_ queen. Bravo…!"

It took all in him to stop Draco from sending a curse to his younger self. He really didn't care about what the blond said concerning him, but he was angered with the way he was hurting Hermione. The boy's words hurt and humiliated her; he could sense it from her flushed face and the slight trembles of her body.

But, it would do neither of them any good if Draco allowed his instinct to take over. He couldn't attack the blond, although he knew he could have defeated him easily in a magical or even physical duel. He, after all, was the one who knew best of his younger self's strengths and weaknesses; not to mention he was better skilled and built. Draco needed to deal with his currently-overly-sensitive younger self very carefully, otherwise he wouldn't be able to make necessary approaches to him to lure the boy into cooperating with him.

So, Draco stayed where he was, watching every movement of his younger self as he prepared himself for any attack, on the same time rubbing his thumb slowly over Hermione's arm to calm her down.

When it was quite apparent that his younger self wouldn't seem to do anything other than the verbal abuse, in fact Draco saw how the boy was now becoming distracted with his moving thumb on Hermione's clothed arm, he decided to respond with a few carefully-chosen words.

"I wouldn't say that if I were you, Malfoy. No one knows what might happen in the future. You wouldn't want to have any regrets."

The words, unfortunately, didn't bring the desired effect. They snapped his younger self out of his half-daze, and returning instead his incense and sharp expression.

"Why would I _ever_ regret putting a _mudblood _on their place, you _blood traitor_, pathetic _excuse_ of a Slytherin?" the blond spat, his threatening glare returning.

Draco stared at his younger self pityly. He realized just then that the boy was only using the event to channel his pent-up frustrations, from both the heavy mission given by Voldemort and suppressed emotions for their beloved muggleborn witch.

He looked at the mad glint in his younger self's eyes, and decided it wasn't the right time to try to put some sense into the blond's stubborn head.

"You will," he replied briefly, after which he decided to stir Hermione away from the spot, leaving his younger self to himself.

The younger Draco looked at the couple walking away with a boiling rage threatening to take over him. He wished to say anything, anything to make him have the final words. But, he was so enraged he became speechless. His pale face turned impossibly red, his fists were excruciatingly clenched and unclenched, sweats began forming on his forehead despite the chilly December air, his heartbeat was getting rapid and his breathing was ragged.

He was aware that the rage had been triggered by the new boy's audacity. _No one_, _no one _at his House could treat the Slytherin Prince like that and escape unscathed. _No one_ should _dare_ talking to him in a condescending tone, as if they were better than him, when they were in fact only a half-blood! If only Draco hadn't been laden with this _stupid_, _fucking _mission from the Dark Lord, if only he shouldn't have stayed under the radar for the sake of the completion of the mission; he would have surely taught the half-German a lesson, making him learn his place. _He_ must _respect_ a Malfoy.

But, Draco was also aware, that it was not only the boy's boldness that had made him feel uneasy, highly alert whenever he was around, and growingly frustrated, too, that all he wanted to do was beating the life out of the new boy. There was something suspicious about him. Draco felt … like Dmitry Rothmund knew. Somehow, he seemed to know about Draco's mission. He often caught Rothmund looking at him, watching him like a hawk, as if he knew what Draco had just done or was about to do. His expressions were mostly unreadable, and so far the boy had not given away anything that could confirm Draco's suspicions regarding his knowledge of the mission. But, still, Draco couldn't ignore that little voice in the back of his mind telling him that somehow Rothmund knew… of his supposed-to-be-secret mission.

There was another thing, an inconsequential thing that added another fuel to his rage. Draco was vaguely aware it had something to do with ... Granger. Rothmund fancied her; it was so blatantly obvious. Anyone who saw the way he looked at her would immediately come to the same conclusion. Draco shouldn't have given a damn care if the new boy fancied the muggleborn; he was a half-blood after all, despite his being in Slytherin. Last year Draco might have led a bullying mission against such blood traitors in his House seeking ... affections from mudbloods. But, now, he simply shouldn't have given a _damn_ care! Thus the question, why did he care then? Why the knowledge that Rothmund fancied the bloody Gryffindor added another fuel to his rage? In the back of his mind, Draco was again aware of a little something. But, the part of his brain that did the main functioning immediately shut off the thought whenever he came across that. So, he never lingered at the thought, let it buried deep in an unknown territory in his head.

Draco refused to acknowledge that other reason for his rage, and was helpless to fight the rage consuming him so badly he knew he just couldn't attend the class now.

He darted back toward the Castle, deciding to skip the class. He was already very too late anyway. And he _needed_ to find something to ebb away his anger.

* * *

**Author's note:**

A little shift from the elder Draco-centric point of view to those of Hermione and the younger Draco. What do you think?

And, well, I must say it's quite a challenge to write the interaction between Draco and his younger self, such as what subjects I should use to represent each of them; do you think I pass the challenge? Or do you find many parts of the interaction become confusing? Genuinely want to hear your opinions and perhaps some suggestions.

Anyway, BIG THANKS to reviewers of the previous chapter: Gabrielle Dashwood , KraZiiePyrozHavemoreFun, midnight shadow of darkness , celiacprincess , Talis Ruadair and Alkeni! Looking forward to hearing more from you, guys.

Keep reviewing! :)


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER XI

The tall figure of the new boy, or in actuality the future Draco Malfoy, stood silently in front of a stretch of wall in the deserted seventh floor corridor. It was past midnight. He came here after ensuring that his younger self would not hang around the area as well. He had spiked the boy's drink with a Dreamless Sleep Potion, and confirmed that the blond was having a deep slumber in his bed, before Draco left the dungeons for the seventh floor. Draco had been generous enough to use that specific potion, instead of another type of sleeping draught, for his younger self. The boy deserved some peaceful, dreamless sleep after his series of nightmare-ridden nights.

_I need a place where Rowena Ravenclaw__'s Diadem is hidden. I need a place where Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem is hidden,_ Draco pleaded a few times inside his head until a door to the Room of Requirements materialized on the wall.

He stepped over the threshold, and then closed the door behind him, meeting the familiar sight of towering piles of junk, of numerous kinds of objects dumped or hidden by students probably since the era when Hogwarts had just been established by the four founders hundreds of years ago. The sight brought back old memories … well, the ones that he was literarily living out again now.

Draco had foolishly wished that the room would immediately present to him the diadem. But, of course, Voldemort must have put protection on the Horcrux, not allowing such a thing to happen.

Draco also knew the diadem must have been shielded against the summoning charm, and yet he tried it anyway, to no avail.

Well, he had no choice but to do the search manually. Luckily, the future Weasley had told him that the diadem was put around the head of a stone warlock on top of an old cupboard.

And, he thought he had seen the warlock and cupboard somewhere. It was not far from the Vanishing Cabinet, if Draco remembered correctly. So, he walked straight toward the cabinet, stopping just in front of, examining it for a second or two before he looked to his left and saw the cupboard and warlock across the room, in the middle of piles of old books and tomes soaring about his height.

He came to the cupboard, and stared at the ancient discolored tiara on top of a dusty old wig worn by the ugly pockmarked statue.

It was indeed the Ravenclaw's Diadem. He had seen the picture while researching the items that Voldemort had turned into Horcruxes before he began his journey into the past.

Draco took out the extendable small bag inside his pocket, and retrieved from it the pair of dragon-hide gloves. These gloves, unlike ones produced in this era, were of the most state-of-the-art ones invented in the future that he left. Not only they could protect the wearers from poisonous materials, but also from dark curses surrounding cursed objects; the kinds of curses that could affect ones through skin contacts. Draco expected the gloves to protect him from such curses Voldemort might place on his Horcruxes. One could only be careful enough when dealing with those dangerous items.

Draco put on the gloves, and then retrieved the steel container from the bag. He placed the bag and the container on the floor before casting a charm to return the container into its original size. And then he opened the lid to reveal the Basilisk fang inside.

He stood up then, reaching out for the diadem and feeling immediately unpleasant air of dark magic surrounding the object. He ignored the unpleasant feeling, and then clasped his hand over said object, which trembled upon his touch. He ignored the trembles, bringing down the tiara quickly to the floor, placing it next to the steel container as he kneeled down now before the two items.

He took out the fang then, and, using two hands, gripped the base of it tightly, bringing it into the air, and then stabbed the tip swiftly into the tiara, making it clang and then tremble violently. Just when it seemed like the trembles were about to stop, the tiara broke apart and produce a deafening screeching sound, much like a scream of pain. As the scream finally ended, a dark, thick bloodlike liquid flowed slowly out of the broken object.

Draco fell on his bum then, panting, couldn't help the unpleasant aftereffects of the Horcrux destruction as his heart thumped very loudly, his ears ringing unpleasantly and his head throbbing severely.

* * *

Draco slept into the midday on the next day. He abruptly sat up as he woke up, noticing all beds in the room were empty but for his. He heard faint sounds of roaring crowd from outside. Ah yes, he remembered, it was the first Quidditch match of the season; the Slytherin versus Gryffindor. No wonder the room was deserted.

He unconsciously looked to the bed across from his, which was neatly made. Well, it looked like his younger self had indeed enjoyed a good sleep last night. He must have waken up freshened enough to bother making the bed before leaving for whatever he was doing now. Draco only knew that the boy skipped the Quidditch match, feigning an illness. If he remembered correctly, his younger self should be in the Room of Requirements right now, set to waste no time as he tried to repair the Vanishing Cabinet as soon as possible.

Draco was thinking about continually lying around for a while as he was still feeling exhausted from his last night's escapade. But, suddenly, he felt his pulses begin to throb unpleasantly, which immediately alerted him and prompted him to sit up. He hastily rid of the blanket over his body and then grabbed his wand under the pillow, casting several charms over his luggage to remove multiple wards that guarded it. He threw open the lid, abruptly removing a pile of clothing, revealing a hidden box inside of which his stock of Polyjuice Potion stock were stored. He opened the box and grabbed a small flask, and then shut his luggage and recast quickly the multiple wards before he bolted to the bathroom.

He locked the door as he got inside the bathroom, and then cast a few extra locking charms, after which he turned around and made for the mirror. He drew to a halt then, staring at his reflection, noticing the throbs of his veins that were becoming stronger and more evident. His heartbeat was getting faster than normal, his breathing became ragged, and then slowly, his tanned, raven-haired reflection morphed into that of a pale, fair-haired man. The last dosage of Polyjuice Potion he had consumed just lost its effect; he was returning to his original body.

For some time, Draco did nothing, only stared numbly at his platinum blond-haired, grey-eyed reflection. And then he sighed in relief, recalling that the change happened only after he had woken up. He couldn't imagine if it did while he had still been asleep, and then someone had accidentally caught him in the state; that could be very disastrous. He definitely needed to be more careful next time, and deciding, after a bit of mulling, that he would set up an alarm on his wand to ensure he would _always_ wake up on time for his next doses of Polyjuice Potion. He had earlier recklessly relied on his own mental reminder for regular intakes of the potion.

Thankfully, the stock of the potion that he brought along with him was of an enhanced type, even more enhanced than those commonly sold in the market in the future. He had specifically ordered a team of talented researchers in one of his potion manufactures to enhance several properties of the potion, making each dose last longer, to a week in fact, and diminishing significantly unwanted side effects of the regular potion. These he would undoubtedly need for he most likely had to consume the potion for a long term.

Draco then murmured an incantation on his wand to set up the alarm. Checking if it worked -and it did, he calmly headed for the shower, turning it on and soon feeling hot waters running down his body, easing the knots in his muscles, as he started to mull over what he was going to do for his next steps.

The rest of the Horcruxes -the Slytherin's locket, the Hufflepuff's cup and the snake Nagini- were all outside Hogwarts, heavily-guarded, almost impossible to reach.

He turned off the shower after some time, standing motionless as he tried to think of a plan. He reached out for the soap as he came to a conclusion: looked like it was time to soon pay the Boy-Who-Lived some visit.

Draco relaxedly continued his bath then, taking his time, after which he returned to the sink and grabbed the bottle of Polyjuice Potion he had put there. He uncorked the bottle and gulped down the content, and then watched silently as his pale reflection morph once again into that of his fake identity.

* * *

It was the evening after the Quidditch match. Gryffindor had hammered Slytherin and, for the first time during their years in Hogwarts, Ron overshadowed Harry, becoming the star of the game. He had managed to block all quaffles thrown at the hoops, allowing none of the Slytherin chasers to score any goals.

Hermione had felt mixed about the victory. After all, Harry had slipped some Felix Felicis into Ron's pumpkin juice just before the game. She felt happy seeing Ron shining with pride as he confidently blocked all the quaffles, but she also couldn't help thinking how wrong it was; Harry shouldn't have used the potion at all. It was illegal, and did not make it a fair game.

She reprimanded both of them shortly after the match, and it was then that Harry revealed he had only pretended slipping the lucky liquid, and that he didn't really do it. It was only to make Ron feel lucky, he said, which indeed worked, and very well at that. Harry even showed her that the vial containing the potion was still full, meaning he had not used it at all.

Hermione instantly felt stupid, and inwardly cursed Harry for causing her the unnecessary inner conflicts and, on top of all, making her accuse Ron of doing an unfair game. Ron, feeling that he had gained a ground, looked even more smug then, and scolded her back for having no trust in his Quidditch abilities.

Hermione really felt bad, so she only watched from afar as Ron was dragged to the center of the Gryffindor's common room during the party that Dean had called upon shortly after the match to celebrate their House's victory.

Her smile returned, though, as she saw the happy look on Ron's face as he savored the abundance of attention people were throwing at him. She genuinely felt proud of Ron this time, and was set to ask for his apology as soon as the party was over.

The joyful air of celebration across the room also infected her as she cheerfully conversed with Harry now, forgetting that just a while ago she had really wanted to curse him.

That was, however, before the cheers and shouts of the partying crowd began to turn into "Oooh.." and "Ahhh…" and some wolf whistles. Hermione looked up to see what happened, and it was then that she saw Ron engage in a passionate liplock with Lavender. They embraced each other so tightly, so… intimately, leaving no room between their joined bodies.

Hermione was stunned at first, but then, slowly, her feelings morphed into a pain.

She saw Harry watch the scene amusedly beside her, and attempted to smile as well. But… she couldn't.

She felt her chest tighten, and felt tears begin to form in her eyes. She tried to hold back those tears, but even more of them were coming, threatening to flow out anytime now.

Hermione decided to leave the room before any of those tears made an appearance.

She took in a sharp breath as she closed the painting of the Fat Lady behind her, ignoring her commentary, and then ran down the deserted corridor as the tears began to leak from her eyes. She didn't want anyone to see her in that state, so she frantically tried every door that she found to find somewhere where she could hide. It was after a few trials that she found an unlocked door to a deserted classroom that hadn't been used for a seemingly long time. She crossed the threshold, closed the door behind her over which she applied a locking charm, before carefully descending the stairs that led to the center of the room. She dropped herself at the bottom of the staircase, slowly leaning her head against the wall and hugging her vulnerable self; this time allowing herself to freely cry.

* * *

Draco thought, because the Gryffindors just won the match earlier in the day, Potter should be in a good mood right now. Thus upon finishing his dinner in the Great Hall, he decided to pay the scarhead boy a visit to the Gryffindor tower, for Potter seemed to be skipping dinner, and so did most of the members of the Gryffindor House, even Hermione. From what Draco had gathered from some Slytherins, whose conversations he had overheard, the Gryffindors were likely having a celebration party in their common room, so Potter should be there as well.

Draco hoped he could somehow get Potter to talk to him. Or perhaps he could ask Hermione for a favor to persuade her friend to talk to him. Whichever, Draco had decided, he had to start approaching Potter now. The Christmas break was coming soon, and that should be the best time to hunt the remaining Horcruxes, at least two of the three, excluding Voldemort's pet snake. Draco was still completely clueless about how to get on that one, given its proximity with Voldemort, unlike with the two other Horcruxes; he at least already thought of some rough ideas as to how to reach them.

But still, he couldn't follow up on the ideas alone. He needed helps, thus his need to soon approach Potter and somehow lure him and Hermione, and perhaps Weasley, too, into helping him with his mission. It had to be done in the upcoming holiday, because after that it would be difficult to leave the school.

The corridor leading to the Gryffindor common room was completely deserted, but Draco could hear noises of the party as he approached the portrait of the Fat Lady. Just when he was about to open his mouth, to ask the painting to get Potter for him, it burst open, and came out from behind it the Boy-Who-Lived himself.

He blinked when he saw Draco.

"Did you see Hermione?" he said, unexpectedly, before Draco even got a chance to say a word.

Draco frowned, and then shook his head, and, upon seeing the troubled look on Potter's face, became curious.

"What is it?"

Potter seemed hesitant at first. He gave Draco an annoyingly assessing look for some time before sighing and then looking up to see him in the eyes, this time with certainty.

"She's … not in a very good state. I need to find her."

"What do you mean she's not in a good state?" Draco began to feel worried.

"She… she just saw something that she was not supposed to see, all right? And I'm worried that she would do something reckless."

Draco wondered what she had just seen, but seeing the look on Potter's face, not to mention his careful choice of words, he didn't think Potter would answer his question on that.

"Okay … that doesn't sound pretty good. Where do you think she is?"

"She actually just fled from the room; not long before I decided to follow her. So she shouldn't be far right now. You're sure you didn't see her on your way here, Rothmund?"

"Of course I didn't. She is not that easy to miss, you know."

Potter sighed, before continuing, "Well, okay then, perhaps you could help me find her? Why don't you go to the left and I to the right, and anyone finds her first could report to the other ."

Draco raised his eyebrow, didn't feel like being ordered around by a 17-year-old boy. But, well, this could be a way to further gain his trust, after all Draco needed _this_ 17-year-old boy's help to hunt down the Horcruxes. Strangely, somehow Potter already seemed to trust him enough, to some degree, which made Draco curious as to how and why. After all Weasley had proven to be a complete suspecting idiot here, so Draco thought it was only normal if Potter had been, too.

Anyway, seeing the genuinely concerned look on Potter's face, Draco was beginning to feel really worried about Hermione. What happened to her? He really hoped she was all right. He decided to agree to cooperate with Potter if only for her sake.

"Okay, then," Draco nodded solemnly.

"Good, we've made a deal," Potter stretched out his hand.

"Deal," Draco shook it.

They went to the opposite directions then, as had been previously agreed.

Draco went down the corridor that he had earlier passed through, toward where he had come from this time, while listening carefully to any sounds other than the noises from the Gryffindor's common room.

He saw a door to his left, and tried to push it open, but it was locked. He cast 'Alohomora', and then inspected the room inside, which was empty.

He left the room, and resumed walking down the corridor, and inspected two other rooms before he heard a faint sound of something like… flutters of wings? -as he arrived in front of the door that led to the fourth room.

He murmured 'Alohomora' softly, heard the door click and then very carefully opened it, revealing a spiraling staircase leading down to the center of the old abandoned room. It was at the bottom of the staircase that he saw his Hermione, sitting alone with her back facing him, with several canaries that could only be magical flying in a circle, forming a moving halo of a sort above her head.

He watched her carefully, and realized now that her body was trembling slightly. He then faintly heard a sob, as she vulnerably hugged herself while impassively watching the canaries above her head.

Draco silently locked the door behind him, and then quietly descended the stairs, along which she didn't seem to notice; perhaps too absorbed in her own little world.

Only when he landed at the bottom of the staircase, next to her, that she looked up, surprised to find him, after which she abruptly wiped off the too evident traces of tears on her face.

"Dmitry," she greeted him feebly, attempting to smile, though it obviously didn't reach her eyes. She quickly avoided his eyes after that, her eyes were again glued at the flying canaries. She refused to cast another glance at his direction.

"Hi," he returned her greeting nevertheless, watching her form becoming stiff as he sat down beside her.

He watched her silently as he felt a rising anger within him, wondering what or who had made her cry, and fully wishing he could beat the hell out of the culprit. He tried to tame down the anger, and at the same time resist the urges to swoop down her fragile body into his arms, to hold her tightly and tell her it would be all right.

Draco settled with gripping tightly his wand in one hand and his knee with the other hand.

She muttered a spell then, which made the canaries, still flying in circle, move a little in front of her, still at the same height above her head.

"Are they magical?" He asked, although already knew the answer. He was only attempting a conversation.

"Yes," she replied, without looking at him, as she again waved her wand, making the canaries fly a little higher this time.

"What are they made of?"

"I transfigured them from some chalks I found lying around here. It's just for practicing."

"Ah, an excellent transfiguration work," he commented sincerely, which made her unconsciously look up to smile at him, allowing him to fully catch the grieved look on her face and her tear-swollen eyes this time.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" He whispered, which made her quickly turn her head away to avoid his gaze again. But he caught her chin this time, forcing her to face him.

"It's okay… You can tell me what's wrong," he encouraged her softly.

She still stubbornly refused to look at him in the eyes, but after a while her hardened features softened, and then she sighed, and began to speak, although she fixed her stare at her fingers that she was now absentmindedly fiddling on her lap.

"This … this is actually silly. You would regret asking this. But, if you really want to know, I just … I just saw my bestfriend, Ron … with a girl from our House. And, well … it hurts. I thought he probably liked me, too. I mean, having more than friendly feelings for me. But, obviously I was wrong…" she ended her sentence with a humorless laugh.

Draco's hand stiffened midway the speech. He removed it slowly from her chin as he felt a twist in his stomach. Of course, his girl, his Hermione… had to have a crush on Weasley! Draco immediately felt enraged, felt like beating the life out of the red head, regardless of the favor he had made for him in the future.

He indeed had heard rumors about Hermione and the Weasel during their sixth-year, but had been so distracted he hadn't given the rumors any heeds. Besides, Draco hadn't been aware of his feelings for her that time (which was the present now). Anyway, so the rumors were apparently true, at least the part where _his _Hermione harbored feelings for Weasley. Then why did the future Weasley tell Draco that she had cared about him back then, when they had accidentally met in the cemetery? Draco felt like an utter fool now.

Before he could continue his unpleasant train of thoughts, however, Hermione brought him out of his stupor as she suddenly addressed him.

"Have you… ever felt like that, Dmitry? Liking someone who's in love with … someone else?" She stared at him with her big doe eyes, waiting for him to answer, looking insecure already, as if he would reply 'No' and then she would be the only one in the world suffering from unrequited feelings.

If only she knew, Draco said inwardly, bitterly as he stared at her almost impassively.

But then, instead of mulling about the answer, he began to be distracted by the details of her face, so close this time, only a hand reach. He looked into her honey-colored eyes, so warm, so alluring, and yet so sad. He stared at her eyelashes, so dark, long and curly, and at her eyebrows, so perfect, although they curved a little downward at the moment, probably because of her sadness.

Then his gaze traveled a bit down, to her pair of rosy cheeks smeared with tears. But, despite the damps, the skin of her face still looked alabaster, and so soft, as it always did. He couldn't help the urges to get to know what it felt like against his skin, so, instinctively, he lifted up his hand and put it on a side of her face, surprising her, although strangely, and thankfully at that, she stayed still, only looking up at him confusedly. Feeling encouraged, he began to run his calloused thumb against her cheek, which was indeed as soft as it seemed, despite the drying tears. Her eyelids fluttered closed as he moved his thumb over them, gently wiping the remains of wet on her thick eyelashes. She kept closing her eyes as his own were now drawn to her cute button nose, and his thumb moved down to play softly with the faint speck of freckles across the bridge.

Then, slowly, his eyes fell on her lips, which were deep red instead of pink -must be because she kept unconsciously biting it down. He examined the area around her lips; her nice chin and jaws… but the partly-opened, glistening and looking-so-soft lips quickly drew his attention back to them. Almost unconsciously, he began to move his thumb downward and, finally, brushed it gently across those lips, which were indeed soft. The touch made her eyes immediately flutter open, prompting him to look up and found those beautiful brown eyes staring up at him questioningly, and rather apprehensively. He also noticed now that she had been holding her breath.

"Dmitry…?" she said softly, half-whispering, and the movement of her lips again drew his eyes to them.

It was then that he decided to throw caution to the wind, to forget about responsibilities and every other thing as he let his instinct take over and swooped down and kissed her, feeling blissful as his lips met hers for the first time.

They were indeed very soft, and she tasted very sweet. The kiss felt a whole _lot_ better, more heavenly than he had ever dreamt of, and he had dreamt of kissing her _a lot_.

He could feel her shock; her body went rigid and her lips were still. But, she didn't push him away. He dubbed this as consent, and brought up his other hand to cup her face with his two hands now, tilting it so that their lips melded perfectly against each other as he continued to savor her, massaging her lips gently with his.

She still didn't give any response, so he brushed his thumb across her cheek again, and slowly dropped his other hand to her back, drawing circles there to coax her to relax, and alternately running his fingers through her long soft curls.

When she did finally relax, parting her lips a little, he happily responded by deepening the kiss, running the tip of his velvet tongue over her delicious bottom lip. The kiss that had begun gently now grew more urgent, at least on his side, as the arm that was on her back now encircled her waist, drawing her closer to his body.

To his delight, he began to feel her tentatively, and shyly kissing him back. He immediately responded by taking her hands and bringing them to the back of his neck, and was just about to pull her onto his lap when suddenly the door upstairs burst open and in came Potter.

"WHAT IS THIS ALL ABOUT?" He yelled, looking raving mad, making Hermione jump up startled from Draco's arms and him forced to let go of her.

Draco groaned then, as an awareness of what he had just done, and what the consequences could be, were coming crashing down on him. _Merlin_, he had been very reckless! Thanks Potter for the interruption, otherwise Draco didn't even know if he would've been able to stop.

He stood up then, looking down at Hermione, who was already standing on her feet and determinedly staring at the floor, avoiding both his and Potter's gaze.

Draco sighed, and, after a brief mulling, lowered his head to an inch from her ear.

"I'm sorry…" He said softly, expecting no reply as he turned around and climbed up the stairs, stopping in front of the furious Potter at the landing.

"YOU…!" he fumed, pointing an accusing finger at Draco, but didn't manage to spurt more words.

Draco decided to give the boy a favor as he began his speech calmly,

"Look, Potter, I know what you want to say. And I also happen to need to talk to you about something important. Why don't we meet again after you manage to calm down and say something comprehensible? Say, tomorrow after breakfast, at 9 o'clock? It's Sunday morning, you must be free. Why don't we meet at … the Astronomy Tower? You can bring Hermione if you want."

Draco decided to add the last sentence at last minute, although he was not sure if he would be ready to face Hermione again so soon. He needed to first think of what he should do to rectify the thing his stupid impulses had just driven him to do.

He saw the skeptical look on Potter's face, in fact the boy now saw him like he was mad, so Draco decided to give him another glimpse of what he wanted to talk about in a low, serious tone; only for the Gryffindor to hear.

"You would _want_ to meet me, Potter. This has something to do with… a side school project you're working on; something _you_ need Slughorn to share with you about."

He saw Potter's eyes widen, and added before the boy could spurt a single word,

"Aside from Hermione, _don't_ tell anyone else about this. Or you wouldn't hear anything from me, while I know you will desperately need to."

Draco fled the room then, leaving Harry Potter even more speechless.

* * *

**Author's note:**

Hello again! Thanks everyone, for continually reading this, and MOST especially to those who reviewed the last chapter: **Talis Ruadair**, **Gabrielle Dashwood**,** japhY**, **anna0728**, **beth**, **celiacprincess** (you don't know how much time travel used to freak me out, too; but then, due a thing or two, I've gone 'reckless' about that :D) and **midnight shadow of darkness**. Really_ really_ appreciate your reviews.

Unfortunately, I've received no other inputs besides the one from **Talis Ruadair** (BIG thank you!) as to whether I should change the subjects in sentences I use during confrontations between older and younger Draco. Dear Talis suggested that I use "Dmitry" when referring to older Draco, so as to prevent confusion. And I've done that, but only when it was from the others' point of view, such as Hermione's and younger Draco's. But, I think I'll stick to "Draco" when referring to older Draco and it was from his point of view. He is, after all, the main character of this story, and I've been referring to him as "Draco" since the early chapters, before he traveled to the past and met his younger version. I would do my best, though, to prevent other confusions with this by explaining -in a way- in the start of every section featuring older and or younger Draco which one of them I am writing about, or whose point of view I am using. I've started this with this chapter, with the use of "The tall figure of the new boy, or in actuality the future Draco Malfoy..." at the very start of the sentences. What do you guys think?

And, well, I've done quite an effort with this chapter, which is longer than any other chapters of stories I've written so far. How do you find it?

Keep reviewing, and I'll most probably keep writing! :)


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER XII

Draco rebuked himself incessantly as he stormed through dark, mostly deserted corridors of Hogwarts in his moment of self-reproach after the unintended kiss with Hermione.

The dark, menacing air about him sent the few students that he came across out of his way, clearing the path for his angry strides.

Oh yes, he was angry with himself; there was no one else to blame. Why had he kissed her? Why couldn't he have had better control of himself? He had been too caught up in the moment, and perhaps hormones had also played part, his Polyjuiced body belonged to a hormonal teenager after all.

But, Draco was also aware that the kiss … it was inevitable. He had been suppressing his feelings for her for too long. It would be only a matter of time before he cracked, or for those feelings to somehow find their channel to go out, to find their way to her, regardless of what his brained told them to.

This was not a good situation. The kiss might frighten her again, and it would be even more difficult for him to approach her again by then. If it didn't, then what could happen was quite the contrary; it would make her start seeing him in a more than friendly way, for she had kissed him back after all.

Either way, it would do his mission no good. If she liked him, it would be Dmitry Rothmund that she liked, not Draco Malfoy. That would be surely counterproductive to his mission.

Now Draco could only hope she wouldn't be too affected by the kiss; although that seemed futile.

And then there was the problem with what the kiss had done to him, to his body. He couldn't help but re-playing it over and over in his head, relishing the sweet taste of her lips, her soft skin and curls, the gentle curves of her body, and her intoxicating scent that had invaded his senses just a moment ago, and now drove him mad with wants.

To be honest, despite the incessant self-reproach, Draco could not help but savoring the kiss, and wouldn't want to trade it with anything else, even if he could. It had been too long; he thought he more than deserved it. And she had felt so right in his arms. Her innocent and shy response made him grow even more protective of her, and all the more set to never let her go.

Draco was only aware that he had walked aimlessly upon coming to the passage leading to the Astronomy Tower. He recognized the entrance to the tower, and lowered the speed of his long strides as he came closer.

He drew to a halt in front of the door, noticing it slightly opened, feeling the frosty air from outside seeping into the castle.

His appointment with Potter must have been why his feet subconsciously led him here, Draco decided.

It did not occur to him why the door was slightly opened. He had been too occupied, and paid it no heed as he opened the door more widely, before he closed it shut as he stepped into the tower.

It was awfully cold, so Draco cast a warming charm over his body before he started his ascent of the stairs spiraling upward.

But he was stopped just as he made it to the third step, by an alarmed voice he knew only too well.

"_Who's there?_"

Great. So his younger self was upstairs. How could he have forgot about that?

Yes, well, it's not like Draco could remember every single thing he had done, and his whereabouts, 12 years backward. But, he was simply not ready yet to confront his younger self about the ill mission from Voldemort. Draco had yet to prepare any speech that might lure the boy out of the evil's clutches; not to mention any plan of what to do with their mother, as she would be most endangered by an annulment to the ill mission, what with she was now practically living under the same roof with the devil himself. Draco was not too worried about his father, though; right now Azkaban cells were the old man's best protection.

Draco thought quickly, and decided it was better to just face the blond now, or else he might never even start with him. So he resumed his ascent, with wand ready in hand.

As expected, he was welcomed with a wand pointed right at his nose as he emerged from the stairs.

"IT'S YOU!" His younger self spat; eyes narrowing venomously, full of suspicions.

Draco quickly gathered his coolness. It would not do facing the blond hot-headed, let alone as a scatterbrain as he had just been.

The wand pointed directly at his face did not frighten Draco the slightest, but he tightened his grip of his own wand anyway, just in case.

"Yes, it's me," he managed to reply coolly, all the while raking his brain to decide where he was supposed to start.

"What the _FUCK_ do you think you're doing, _Rothmund? _Have you been following me around?" His younger self charged.

Draco did not immediately answer as he was carefully choosing his words, finally settling with,

"As fun as it may sound, I have better things to do."

That, apparently, only served to further trigger his younger self's wrath.

"DON'T play dumb, you _blood traitor_! Do you think I don't _fucking_ know that you've been following me around? _STOP_ snooping into what's _NONE_ of your business! Or would you want me to teach you a lesson you shall _never_ forget?"

Draco knew it was not wise, but he had been rather troubled from the previous occasion and now somehow found those last remarks from his younger self amusing. A lesson? The teenage boy teaching him a lesson? That was rich. So, recklessly, Draco laughed, which broke the last self-control his younger self had barely possessed from the beginning.

Draco was only lucky he had been alert all the while, and saw the blond's hand twitch before a spell escaped his mouth.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" his younger counterpart shouted, which Draco quickly blocked with a shielding charm. He stopped laughing then, and now eyed the blond boy cautiously.

The blond soon sent him another curse, and another, and another. In fact he had thrown Draco curses after curses, all of which Draco managed to deflect although it was getting more difficult each time, what with the boy becoming more savage with each failed attempt.

Draco had been holding himself back, but could not let an opportunity to retaliate pass when his opponent, panting heavily, ceased his attacks in order to properly breathe in.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" Draco disarmed him, catching the boy off guard, and then swiftly summoned the wand that had been thrown against the wall, securing it in his free hand. Draco now held two wands in his possession.

His younger self looked positively incensed. Harshly wiping non-existent sweat from his jaw, the boy gritted his teeth and balled his hands into shaking fists, his stormy grey eyes narrowing dangerously at Draco.

"I would return your wand," Draco gestured at the seized wand in his left hand, "on condition that you listen to what I'll say, _all_ part of it."

His younger self refused to say anything in reply, skepticism and suspicions adorned his face, aside of rage and dangerous glares. Draco decided to take the silence as a hint to continue.

"Contrary to what you seem to believe, I have not been following you around. I've _never_ followed you around, nor am I planning to start anywhere soon."

His younger self sneered in disbelief, but kept his mouth shut still.

Draco decided to go in for the kill.

"But, I must say, I am not completely clueless as to what you've been doing … outside school hours."

Draco watched as his younger self's posture grow stiffened and fresh fury written all over his face.

"What the _fuck_ are you talking about?" the boy finally snapped.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, otherwise you wouldn't be so troubled with me allegedly following you around. Let's not beat around the bush."

"I _DON'T_ FUCKING KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!" his younger self bellowed. "WHY DON'T YOU GET _LOST_, ROTHMUND! FUCK OFF TO BERLIN, RUSSIA OR WHEREVER. YOU ARE _NOT _WELCOME HERE!"

"Look, Malfoy, I am trying to help-"

His younger self broke into mock laughter. "Do I sound like I _need _any help? Least of all from _you_?" he spat.

"I know you're in a difficult situation, Draco, but you can trust me."

"_FUCK OFF!_"

"I can show you the way out. I can-"

Draco did not manage to end that sentence as his younger self threw himself at him, sending them both toppled on the floor. A well-aimed punch soon landed on Draco's jaw, spurting blood from his mouth, followed by an unexpected strangle of his throat, effectively cutting his airway.

Draco instinctively gripped the wrists of hands that tried to choke him to death, forcing them to release him. But they did not budge; his being pinned to the floor by the weight of his mad younger self evidently did not help.

Draco forced himself to calm down and focus on gathering strength in lower parts of his body, and then he swiftly did a maneuver with his legs, throwing his younger self off him.

Draco immediately rose to his feet, and quickly found and took one of the wands thrown off his hands during the unexpected attack. It was his own. Before his younger self managed to rise, Draco directed the tip of the wand right down at his nose, staring idly at the boy panting on the floor.

"I am _no_t an enemy, Malfoy. Don't mistake me for one. I meant what I said, I can show you the way out. Don't let your stubborn pride get in the way and become the death of you… or of others you _don't _want to see dead," Draco said stonily, before turning around and departing the scene, without glancing back, leaving his younger self, still laying and panting on the floor, to his own miserable thoughts.

* * *

Hermione slowly moved her right index finger on the frozen cold window, following the path of a thin trail of ice on the other side of the glass.

It was all white outside; the ground, the lake, the edge of the Forbidden Forest… all were covered in thick snow. And it was a clear, beautiful day, nothing near a storm seemed to be brewing.

In normal circumstances, Hermione would be enthralled by such sight, soaking in the all-white, serene scenery for a minute or two before she began her daily routines.

But, alas, it was not a normal circumstance. She was being lost in her own little world. Her eyes stared emptily, barely acknowledging the beautiful scene.

"Hermione, it's nearly eight. Aren't you coming down for breakfast?" Parvati, one of her roommates, brought Hermione out of her stupor. Next to the Indian witch, their blond roommate, Lavender, stood at the door, sticking her head outside and looking impatient, as well as impossibly giddy. It was too obvious she was expecting someone, as she barely paid attention to her surrounding.

"Thanks, Parvati. You guys just go down, I'll catch up later," Hermione gave Parvati a small smile, which was replied with a nod and another smile.

But, before Parvati even managed to turn around, their blond friend suddenly screeched, and then was gone from the door.

"WON-WOOOOON….!" Her squeal soon followed, heard all the way down corridor.

Parvati rolled her eyes, shrugging at Hermione at their friend's antics, before following outside, leaving Hermione alone in the dormitory, to her own thoughts once again.

She resumed then the interrupted trip of her index finger on the window, and her muse, with a new thought added in mind.

_It still stung_, Hermione thought of Ron's new-found … love? Lust? Infatuation? Or whatever that was, with Lavender.

_But, strangely __… only a little_, she added as an afterthought.

And then, slowly, Hermione became aware of the reason why.

It was the very thing that had occupied her mind just before Parvati's interruption, and had occupied it nearly all night long the night before, resulting in her lack of sleep and now dazed expression.

It was her kiss with Dmitry.

Yes, the kiss, which she had kept replaying over and over in her head.

At first, Hermione had not known what to think, nor to feel of the kiss. After Harry's sudden intrusion, she had barely stepped on the ground. She had felt lightheaded, and barely caught Harry's reproach as he had stirred her back into their common room. She had tuned out most of his speech until he had become frustrated and let her up into her dormitory, which had been deserted at that time.

Hermione had been confused, and in a daze. Her thoughts had been in disarray as images of Ron and Lavender in the passionate liplock had continued to flood her mind. She had hardly thought about 'the kiss', almost forgot it even.

But, then, entering the second half of the night, those painful images of Ron and Lavender were slowly but surely replaced … with the scene of her own kiss, with Dimitry; until only that kiss and his masculine yet comforting scent, and his deep voice, the gentle moves of his calloused thumb on her cheeks, his strong arms that were wrapped around her, his hand that drew circles on her back and his fingers that ran through her hair, and his soft lips … occupied her mind for the rest of the night.

She had fallen asleep then, with images of the dark-haired new boy flooding her dreams; of him smiling, talking to her, staring at her from afar, holding her tightly and … kissing her.

Hermione had remained in a daze after the blinding sunlight had forced her to wake up, as she had taken a hot shower and changed into warm clothes, and unconsciously let her feet brought her to where she was at the moment, just behind the window.

And, now… she was finally waking up from that daze. Everything was becoming clear, as clear as the day. It was Dmitry's kiss that made Ron-and-Lavender affair barely sting, if didn't sting at all now.

Hermione stopped the movement of her finger then, let it drop to the window sill, allowing her better view of the all-white scenery outside. And then she gently leaned her forehead against the icy cold glass, ignoring the chill and this time basking in the beautiful, peaceful scene. A tiny, shy smile was slowly forming on her lips.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Hellooooo..., sorry for the short chapter; this is just me telling you that I'm still alive, and intend to finish this story, hopefully before the year ends. Yes, of course, as many of you must also feel the same, sometimes I wish I could just write fictions, including my two fanfictions here, instead of being labored with the formal job, so that I can immediately finish those stories. But, hey, that's life; can't always have what we want, can we?

Anyway, I originally planned to include the future Draco's planned meeting with Harry in this chapter, but found that if I did so, this chapter would be awfully too long, and it might take more weeks before I can finally publish it. So I've decided to just publish this one first, and hope you guys will kindly review, and so boost my spirit to immediately continue with the next chapters. Now you know you can at least expect the meeting (and more, of course...) in Chapter XIII.

And I _really really_ thank you for reviewers of Chapter XI:

- anna0728: hey, those are good words: "daily dose"... I'm also sort of addicted to daily dose of Dramione, just so you know

- Draco n Hermione's Daughter: your request is granted, Dear; I've decided to stick to "Draco" for older/the future Draco, and younger Draco for, well... his younger counterpart.

- raven29: gee, thanks!

- Talis Ruadair: _Really _thank you for the inputs; they help, you know, though I won't give away anything here on my plan for future chapters (but for the upcoming older Draco-Harry meeting) :D

- StrawberryPeaches: wonder how you think of the latest chapter ... if the 'love' is still there :D

- midnight shadow of darkness: thanks for sharing your opinion! Really appreciate it. So you want a good drama? It's coming...

- celiacprincess: thanks for the input on "older" and "younger" Draco; I'm sticking to my way, then. As for the headache, guess you're right; just leave it up to me and enjoy the story :D (which I _hope_ you still do)

- tacker23: DOUBLE thanks for the double reviews last time. Thanks! That's very nice of you :)

To all of you who've read: Kindly review and let me know if the story is still to your liking :)


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER XIII

"I still don't get it, Harry, why should we even bother to meet _that snake_?!" Ron repeated the question a tad bit too loud as he - along with his two best friends - walked briskly through a rather deserted hall toward the Astronomy tower.

"Ssshhh. Lower your voice, Ron; I told you, he seems to know something about you_-know-what_," Harry hissed as he reproached the ginger head and warily glanced at a few students they came across.

"And you trust _that_, Harry? We don't even know if _that snake_ can be trusted," Ron spat, ignoring Harry's warning look as there were no more students around anyway. He glanced toward Hermione, hoping she would catch his slur.

She did. For she finally lifted up her head, leaving the little world she had been in since she had arrived for breakfast and as she was rather dazedly following them now.

"It's still worth listening to him, Ron. He does sound like he knows something. After this we can decide if he's really trustworthy or not," Hermione said.

"Said someone who's fallen to the _enemy_'s clutches," Ron again spat, intentionally attempting to rile Hermione, only to find her blushing and staring down at the floor instead.

Ron was aggravated by this new reaction, having no slightest idea what had transpired the night before (he would be _more _than aggravated if he had known). He was about to continue his little tantrum when Harry pronounced, "Here we are..."

The three of them immediately became alert, hands on wands, even Hermione, who got mixed between her newfound feelings for Dmitry and his suspicious, possible knowledge of Horcrux.

They slowly entered the tower, climbing the stairs in tow, and were soon greeted by the sight of the tall, dark-haired Slytherin who was facing them as he leaned casually against the railing, lazily folding his arms over his chest, his face looking impassive as usual.

"You come," he stood erect as he said that, nodding toward their general direction, smiling briefly at Hermione before zooming in at the uninvited guest in the group.

"I thought I told you not to tell anyone else, Potter," Draco said, purposefully making the red head feel uncomfortable with his condescending stare, although his tone betrayed no emotions.

"He's here, or none of us will," Harry replied firmly, resolving to hold the upper hand in the situation while preventing Ron from throwing another tantrum.

Draco decided it should be just fine. He realized his antipathy toward Weasley was triggered by mere jealousy, and it was rather irrational of him to let his feelings get in the way of this critical mission. Any additional hand should be welcomed, and he knew Weasley was at least trustworthy and capable enough for the job.

"Well, then..." He diverted his attention from the trio, muttering charms that caused the door downstairs to shut and lock audibly, with a couple of additional wards, inviting gasps from his guests, two of whom immediately pointed their wands at him.

"Relax, I'm just locking the door, for safety precaution," he said casually before waving his wand and muttering another charm. "And that is a Muffliato. We don't want any eavesdropper now, do we?"

The Golden trio stared at him in awe, somewhat amazed with his easy use of spells, but he immediately brought them out of their stupor.

"Now let's get down to the business. Potter, I know for a fact you've been trying to coax Slughorn into telling you about the Horcruxes," Draco went straight to the point, noticing his three guests all become tense.

He waited for no response, though, and continued his speech, "In the end you would probably succeed, but don't you agree knowing such crucial information sooner is anyway better than later?"

Still, no response.

"I'm offering to tell you all you want to know about the things; about how many are there, where to find them, and how to destroy them. Right here, Potter. Right now," Draco baited.

"What are you talking about? As _if_ we would trust you!" Weasley, unfortunately, was the first to talk.

"Don't play dumb, Weasley. Although, come to think of it; perhaps that's not an act," Draco couldn't help but adding a little jibe, which immediately riled up the ginger head, as expected.

He respected Potter if only for his ability to keep the hot-headed Weasley at bay as the Boy-Who-Lived was putting his hand on Weasley's arm now, silently asking him to stay calm.

"How do you know about the … things anyway?" Harry asked with suspicions written all over his face.

"It doesn't matter how I come to know about them. What matters is I know, and I know for a fact, Potter, that you've been going nowhere with your work on Slughorn."

Harry glanced almost suspiciously at Hermione this time, silently accusing her at fault for the Slytherin's knowledge over the matter, to which she responded by shrugging her shoulder defensively and glaring at the bespectacled boy.

"No, I haven't got the information from Hermione. She is as clueless as you are about other than the fact that there is such a thing called Horcrux," Draco cut in just as Hermione was opening her mouth to counter.

She looked annoyed nevertheless; must be because of the word "clueless" Draco inserted in the sentence. He chuckled inwardly, but otherwise gave her annoyance no heed.

"Again, what matters is I know, Potter. And before we delve deeper into the subject, let me make it clear: I would _never _tell you as to how I've come to know about the Horcruxes; leave it at the fact that I know. That would be a no compromise part of the deal."

"_As if_ there would be any deal," Weasley gave an ugly sneer, but Potter again told him to quiet, and they were quarreling now.

"Pray tell, what is another part of the deal? If there would be any," Hermione poke at last, ignoring her two boys and drawing Draco's attention back to her.

His eyes regarded her softly, and he couldn't help but flashing another gentle smile at her, which made her blush prettily and Weasley snort.

"I want a help to destroy the Horcruxes. "

Silence.

That was before Potter broke it, "What's in it for you?"

"I want Voldemort dead as much as you do ."

They seemed to take notice of his easy use of "Voldemort" rather than You-Know-W ho" or "The Dark Lord", and that seemed to make their guard falter a little.

"Why would you want him to die?" Weasley spoke, which ignited Draco's laugh.

"Don't be kidding, Weasley. Surely you're not the only one who want him to die."

"But you seem ... more devoted than most people in wanting him to die," Potter said. "And your knowledge of the Horcrux is really suspicious, I'm sure you're aware of that? How would you expect us to trust you when you refuse to tell us anything at all? And let's not forget your sudden entrance in Hogwarts and all your secretive gestures, which all the more make us suspect you. Who are you anyway? And how do you come to know about all of these stuff?"

Draco fell silent for a few seconds, giving the trio a subtly calculative look, before answering with, "There's a strong reason which I cannot disclose as to how I've come to know about Horcruxes, and why I've made it my personal mission to destroy them and kill Voldemort. Your knowledge about my reason would neither contribute to success in destroying those Horcruxes, nor - let's hope not- to failure of the mission."

"But how do we know you can be trusted or not? This might be a trap for all we know!" Weasley demanded.

"I can give you an Unbreakable Vow."

That, again, made everyone fall silent, staring incredulously at him.

Hermione was the one breaking the silence this time. "You've kept saying Horcruxes. Do you believe there is more than one Horcrux? I mean, if Voldemort really made more than one?"

"There are seven of them."

The two Gryffindors gasped, their mouths agape, only Weasley did not look surprised and looked annoyed instead. He didn't seem to be quite aware yet of the significance of Horcruxes; likely his friends had not bothered to enlighten him about the issue.

Potter finally responded as he pinched t he bridge of his nose, in the process shifting the frame of his glasses a little . "Can we.. talk about this later? I don 't think I can continue with this conversation now."

"Sure," Draco nodded. "I didn't expect to get a straightaway answer. But remember, Wonder Boy, the clock keeps ticking, and I hope there will be a decision before you leave for the holiday."

"That will be less than two weeks from now," Hermione said.

"Yes, indeed," Draco again smiled at his Hermione, and got another smile in return. He ignored Weasley's reddening face and another seemingly upcoming outburst.

"We will give you an answer before two weeks," Potter decided, and Draco saw at once the Boy Wonder's mostly dormant quality, which would later on help him secure the title the Boy-Who-Had-Lived-If-Only-to-Defeat-Voldemort.

Draco nodded, and so was how their conversation ended.

* * *

Draco had dreaded the confrontation. Granted it was expected ... after _the kiss _(although he had kind of wished his girl had not been such a confrontational Gryffindor), but still he dreaded it. This he really was not ready. But he had no choice, so he inhaled rather sharply, before facing the girl who had been haunting his dreams for Merlin knows how long, as she stayed, while her two friends left upon sending her a wary glance, plus a warning one in Weasley's case.

As they were gone from sight, Draco's eyes softened and he smiled gently at her, betraying no dread he was feeling inside. No, he did _not_ want to send her away, to make the speech he would soon have to make, did not want that shy, hopeful expression on her lovely, heart-shaped face to disappear as he knew they would as soon as he told her to forget what he was going to tell.

Oh, how he dreaded it. He knew that look ; she was rather open like books. After all of those miserable years, he could see now in her face, and her gestures, the beginning of her requiting of his feelings. She started feeling the same about him, and he was just about to dash her hopes. But it needed to be done.

_It needed to be done, Hermione_._ For the sake of both of us_.

He wished those words could somehow reach her and make her understand. But he had to face the reality.

"I know it's cold out there, but it's a nice day. Care for a walk?"

She agreed, so they descended the tower, the endless stairs, talked about nothing and everything along the way. It looked like they both similarly dreaded the talk.

She tried to coax him into telling her more than what he had told her and her friends about the Horcruxes, but he apologetically said he could not reveal more for now. The fact that they kept stumbling upon other students along their descent helped his cause of remaining silent about the issue.

But as soon as they were finally outside, and got to a part of the lake shore where no other students were in sight, it was no longer inevitable.

She stopped before he did, turning around at him and began, "Dmitry..."

To which he responded by inhaling briefly and closed his eyes if only for a millisecond.

"Hermione, I... I apologize," he cut in, and immediately cursed inwardly upon seeing the comprehension immediately dawning on her face, and the following pained expression.

"Hermione, I..." She refused to look at him now, choosing to glue her eyes on a near edge of the lake, whose surface was frozen and covered by thin snow.

"It was a mistake. I had not meant to... to kiss you," He grew more hateful of himself every second as he noticed her back grow stiffen.

He reached out to touch her, but she sharply moved away, "Don't!" She said, making a mistake of glancing briefly at him, and that was when he saw her silent cry, the tears in her expressive brown eyes that she stubbornly refused to shed.

Oh, how he wished to kiss those tears away, how he wished to hold her tight, comfort her, and tell her he actually felt the same way about her. _Damn_ his feelings ran even much deeper than that, of greater extent, bordering if not already an obsession. They were after all the reason why he did the unthinkable and arrived here, 13 years into the past, just for her. If only he could tell her all of those.

But he couldn't. So he closed his eyes once again, inhaling quietly, telling himself to remain calm and not to get carried away by either his or her emotions.

"I wish it could have been different, Hermione, but you ... -"

"I look, and now also feel too much like your sister?" She offered, still refusing to look his way.

He didn't answer, but she seemed to regard his silence as an agreement.

"You're a beautiful girl, Hermione. You're a beautiful, intelligent and strong girl any normal guy would want to be with. Weasley doesn't deserve you. You deserve someone much better than him. And someday ... someday you will meet that person, and he will love you more than world, make you forget any other times i n your life when you ever feel … unloved."

Silence befell them. And, finally, she turned around to face him, glancing up at him briefly, forcing herself to smile. But she kept her distance from him.

"Thank you, Dmitry. I ... I shouldn't have reacted the way I did. Thank you anyway, and ... and it's okay. But I gotta go now." She turned back toward the castle, walking away from him quickly, giving him no chance to reply.

And he did not know what else to say anyway. He could only watch her retreating back, silently praying this would pay in the end. It _must_ pay in the end. Oh he would surely work on that.

* * *

Hermione increased her pace as she got nearer to the castle. As soon as she entered the Entrance Hall, she paid no heed to her surrounding and broke into a run, quickly ascending the stairs and instinctively let her feet take her into her old sanctuary, which she had barely visited after Harry and Ron had saved her from that troll in their first year.

Hermione broke open the entrance to Myrtle's bathroom, closed the door shut and sank against it. The bathroom was the nearest she could get before she could turn into a sloppy mess in front of the Hogwarts population.

She allowed herself to cry freely then, sobbing her heart out, shedding the tears she had been holding back, mourning over her twice broken heart.

She ignored Myrtle's greeting and the annoying screeching and wailing that followed after she ignored the poltergeist.

Hermione did not remember when she had ever cried like that. Had her feelings for Dmitry run that deep, without her aware of it? Or was it because of the roller coaster of emotions that Ron, and now Dmitry, had put her through in the span of two days? Yes… the wound Ron inflicted was still afresh when Dmitry unexpectedly came and cured it. And just when she thought he was her hero, her knight in shining armor, and after her feelings grew considerably over one night after that kiss, and after she recalled all those times he had made her feel so special with his sweet, special treatment of her when there were just the two of them, compared with his cold demeanor in front of everyone else… he just had to apologize and said it was a _mistake_!

A mistake...

If it was a mistake, why did it feel so right? Why did she feel so blissfully secured, and safe, when she was in his arms ? Why did she keep having that inkling feeling that he cared about her in a more than brotherly way, unlike his claims? It's from the way he looked at her, smiled at her, from the way she never saw him giving another girl the same gentle looks, smiles and attention. And it's from the kiss, how it was so … intense. It was such a heated moment, and he seemed … rather urgent. She thought he had gone over his previous claim that she reminded him of his sister.

Oh, but how wrong she was. And now that she thought about it, she realized she had actually grown feelings for him, which she had subconsciously suppressed because of his brotherly claim, and because he in general - a handsome, intelligent and powerful young wizard that he is, who had drawn the attention of so many fem ale students (oh yes, she noticed that) - just seemed… unattainable to a girl as ordinary as her.

She mistakenly removed that blockade that had been holding her feelings after he kissed her, so she was one to blame.

No, she could not blame him for allegedly leading her on. He perhaps never meant to, and was just caught up in the moment. It was her mistake to have felt elated for all the wrong reasons, which was why the feelings, once the blockade was lifted, grew wild and uncontrollably. And thus her badly bruised heart.

She did not know how long she had cried. Only now that she managed to finally calm down, she became aware of another presence in the bathroom.

She snapped her head up then, and was frozen upon seeing the person sitting across from her in the bathroom, leaning his upper body against the wall as she did, while his impassive grey orbs were trained at her.

Malfoy…

His blond hair was a mess, partly wet and far from being the neat mass it commonly was. His usually impeccable all-black suit was rumpled. His face was so pale, and there were dark, haunting circles under his bloodshot grey eyes.

He did not move his head, kept leaning it against the wall, and his eyes kept staring at her unblinkingly, not reacting the slightest to her shocked expression.

She immediately came to her senses, though, and abruptly stood up and swept her clothed arm across her eyes to wipe her tears away.

How long had he been sitting there? He must have seen her in the embarrassing fit. She saw now his eyes impassively following her movements, but the taunts that she had anticipated never came.

_This is weird_, Hermione told herself as she stared back at the blond.

She quickly decided, though, to welcome the rare chance when she did not have to listen to what his foul mouth would say in a more normal circumstance.

Their eyes kept locked as her right hand sought the door handle. As soon as she found it, she clicked the door open.

But he lazily stood up just as she was about to move outside.

"No," his voice reverberated across the room, and she inexplicably obeyed him, her hand froze on the door handle.

She kept looking at him warily as he walked closer and now stopped inches away from her.

"I have finished my share of the room. It's yours now," He said impassively, making her move aside as he then strode past her, through the door, giving her a fleeting, indecipherable look before he disappeared behind it.


End file.
